


Ангел мой (my angel)

by milyyuri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anxiety Attacks, Arranged Marriage, Character Death, Comfort, Crossdressing, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Short Chapters, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milyyuri/pseuds/milyyuri
Summary: Only a queen may ascend to the Russian throne, and the royal family has only birthed women for generations. However, the story has changed: Queen Milena Plisetsky has given birth to a son.The royal family has no intention of passing the throne to any of their relatives, but there is only one way that this problem can be solved. It is imperative that the prince be a princess in dress, appearance, and behavior - but there's another problem.Yuri Plisetsky was betrothed to the Prince of Kazakhstan before he- well, "she"- was born.





	1. The Scandal of Moscow

_"Queen Milena, please sit back, you need to rest, the child has just been born-"_

_"Oh, nonsense! Let me see my little kotyonok! I need to see my beautiful daughter's face!"_

_The wailing child was held up, the nurse smiling softly as she gently cleansed the skin of the newborn. The child had a beautiful pair of cyan eyes, blinking softly behind light eyelashes as the crying began to falter into quiet breathing. The nurse hummed happily, preparing to swaddle the infant. Suddenly, the woman's smile faltered and silence fell upon the room._

_The Queen's face paled._

_"My beautiful Yuriko is... a Yuri?"_

* * *

"Yuri! Please stop taking your grandfather's cloaks! He needs them for the gala this evening!"

"But mother, they're so much warmer and more comfortable than the blankets I have-"

The queen tsked, shaking her finger and smiling down at her daughter- no, son- as he wrapped himself up in the pelt of a snow leopard that her father had killed not a month prior. She gently pried her son from the fur, the blonde boy huffing in defeat as he curled up in a ball on the ground of his room. She could never understand how a boy could look so beautiful in such a feminine dress, but she was thankful for her son's feminine features at least. She wouldn't know how to explain herself to the royal court if her son began to develop broad shoulders and a gruff voice. His voice was deep, yes, but not deep enough for suspicion. The woman smiled, sitting her son up and placing the pelt aside. Her fingers swept through the boy's long flowing hair, twisting it into a tight braid as the boy grumbled about wanting to go on hunts.

"You know why you can't go,  _lyubov moya_ , please let's not have this conversation again."

"It's for the family..." The boy murmured, a slight shiver going down his spine as his mother braided his hair,"But I still don't understand why I cannot hunt. You're the queen, you have the power to allow women on hunts-"

"But then what would the men do?" The woman laughed airily, a small smile drifting onto Yuri's face as he listened to his mother,"They wouldn't have anything to do. I don't want to deny your grandfather and my husband the right to escape my company and have alone time with other men. Do you see now?"

Yuri hummed dejectedly,"Yes, mother. But next time grandfather comes back home with pelts, I want to have at least one. And his pirozkhi."

The woman smiled, tying the platinum blonde with a small bow as she nodded,"Of course. Anything for you. And just as a reminder, your sixteenth birthday marks the day you are to meet the rulers of Kazakhstan, they have a lovely prince that I would like you to meet. His name is Otabek. And we have friends from Japan visiting! Prince Victor Nikiforov has been rather close with the Emperor's son, who also has the same name as you!" Yuri scoffed. "Also, I invited the Italian royal family, the Crispinos, I believe. Lord and Lady Michele and Sala will be so happy to finally meet you! There will be lots of very handsome boys and beautiful women for you to meet!"

Yuri blushed,"Mother, you know better than anyone that I can't get involved with anyone. I'm not exactly a model princess, for very _obvious_ reasons."

There was silence from the woman behind him, and Yuri turned around, confused. His mother's face was downcast, a small frown on her face.

" _L_ _yubov_ , I need to tell you something."

Yuri's eyebrows furrowed, a frown etching itself onto his features.

"You were betrothed to a prince before your birth. I wasn't intending on telling you until the gala, because I didn't want you to worry about meeting the prince you were betrothed to. I didn't want you to worry. I can't keep secrets from you, you know that. What I'm trying to say, is-"

"You arranged my marriage before I was born?" Yuri breathed out, his face paling,"You arranged for me to marry a man you nor I had never met before?"

The woman laughed awkwardly,"Well, I met him on his third birthday."

"You **WHAT**?" Yuri screamed, standing up and backing away from the woman in front of him,"You set me up with a boy you hardly knew, I had never met, and knew that I would have to spend _the rest of my life_ with him? How _dare_ you!"

"Yuriko! I-"

" _Don't call me that girly name_ ," The boy growled,"I'm not a princess, nor a woman to be betrothed to. I can't believe you. Get out of my room."

The queen promptly left, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. The blonde could almost scream. He assured himself, no way in hell was he going to like this boy, whoever the hell he was. Now what did his mother say about the royal families coming to visit? Did she say the name of his betrothed, or was he dreaming? Yuri sighed, fiddling with the lace of his gown. He glared at himself in the mirror, scoffing. What kind of damn prince would want _him_? His eyes were harsh and narrowed, looking constantly angry. He wished that he had inherited his mother's kind face, but instead he took his likeness from the cold man he called his father. His hair was far too long, compensating for the fact that he was a boy instead of a girl.

The boy fiddled with his long braid, frowning and gripping it loosely. Also, he was shit at speaking. Despite excessive lessons from his etiquette teacher, Lilia Baranovskaya, he still could not master the art of elegance and grace that his female handmaidens so easily held. He was surprised his secret wan't out yet, due to the fact it would be quite a scandal if the people of Moscow were to find out about his gender. The boy sighed, undressing himself and staring at his rather unimpressive body.

No prince would want him. He had a flat chest, the most unimpressive waistline, and his arms and legs were far too scrawny. Oh, and he had a penis. He had almost forgotten.

It was like his whole life was a lie, built upon stacks and stacks of deceit and ignorance like it was a big giant mistake _pastila_.

That night Yuri cried himself to sleep, images of a marriage haunting him until he passed out from exhaustion. He promised himself before he went to sleep that he would never, ever, fall in love with his betrothed.

His mother could go fuck herself.


	2. The Gala of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gala goes exactly as planned, except for the fact that Yuri wants to fucking kill himself. He suddenly begins to dread the arrival of his sixteenth birthday, and the ceremony associated with it. However, he meets an interesting fellow on the balcony.  
> -  
> obed: lunch  
> slon v posudnoi lavke: an elephant in a china shop, clumsy or disorganized  
> Očen' prijatno: pleased to meet you  
> YA takzhe rad vstretit'sya s vami.: I am also pleased to meet you  
> 'tchyo za ga'lima: what the fuck?  
> O, Bozhe: oh my god.

Nikolai Plisetsky had no intention of outing his grandson. However, there was a small part of him that believed doing so would avoid the eventual marriage of his grandson. He had visited his Yuratchka multiple times over the few hours before the gala that evening. The boy had been especially moody; though the older man knew his grandson would magically become presentable when within the public eye, he couldn't help but feel upset that his daughter's successor was feeling down. So, he made pirozhkis.

"Yuri, I made-"

A blonde head popped up from under the bed sheets, a smile lighting up the boy's face,"You made pirozhkis?"

The older man laughed and held out a plate of the delicacies, homemade with only a little help from the royal chef to find the ingredients in the kitchen. The blonde boy dashed out of bed and tackled the older man, eliciting a pained groan from the man that the boy quickly apologized for. Yuri quickly devoured two of the pirozhkis, smiling wide and plopping down on a chair of his. He almost forgot that his pouting had prevented him from leaving his room, which meant no food. The older man smiled softly, sitting down on the bed and sighing. What was he going to do with his little Yura?

"Yuratchka, the gala is is in two hours, it's been past _obed_ for almost three hours now, you need to start getting ready."

The boy huffed, grumbling between bites of bread and meat. He murmured a garbled recognition of that statement, making Nikolai sigh in exasperation.

"Your mother and I would be very upset if you didn't attend the gala tonight." The man stated, standing and walking out the door. Yuri frowned, his gaze trained on the ground.

"Fine, I'll go." He grumbled.

His grandfather smiled, nodding his head,"I look forward to seeing you there."

* * *

Plisetsky galas were always of the highest caliber, fine china and lavish tapestries adorning every inch of the banquet and dining halls. Yuri had come to secretly love the galas, as it was just busy enough where he could escape and find refuge away from the commotion. But per his mother's request, he elected to stay within the banquet hall and fraternize with the invited guests. The blonde wore an exceptionally uncomfortable dress this evening and he couldn't wait to rip it off, the corset digging into his ribs and creating a vacuum in his lungs that tried to grasp every molecule of oxygen so as to prevent him from passing out. The dress was also per his mother's request, but not because it was uncomfortable, simply because she enjoyed how it looked on her son, despite Yuri's horror.

He was met instantly with coos of praise from other royal families, dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, and the occasional earl and countess. He was barraged by compliments about how beautiful he had grown over the years, and the blonde had to simply nod and smile as if he didn't want to whip out his dick and tell people he was, in fact, a male. He didn't want to be pretty, he wanted to wear those fucking leopard and tiger pelts his mother refused to him. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

The boy froze, his eyes staring straight forward. _Do as your mother says_ , he said to himself, _don't make a scene_. A familiar voice rang in his ear.

"Yuriko Plisetsky, your posture is like  _slon v posudnoi lavke_ , maybe it would be better if you managed to listen to me for once."

Yuri put on a sweet smile, turning around,"Thank you, Lilia. I will try harder."

The woman tutted, scowling and turning around to find some other party guest to bitch at. Yuri scowled. God, he just wanted to strangle her thin neck and get those wiry, condescending hands off of his shoulders. You know what? After that damn interaction, Yuri needed a break. Lilia always drained him of every piece of happiness he had in his body. He grabbed a cup of alcohol off of the banquet table and stalked off, slipping in between guests until he reached a balcony a little ways away from the party, despite the commotion being just loud enough for him to pick up. The boy sighed, leaning against the railing and taking small, disgusted sips of the snagged alcohol. He would never get used to the taste. His hair flowed gently in the wind and the boy quickly wrapped it in a bun, annoyed by the strands of blonde falling into his cup of vodka.

So there Yuri sat in all his glory, nursing his alcohol and stretching out his tired legs from walking in heels for an hour when he heard footsteps. The boy scrambled to look presentable, the image of his mother murdering him flashing in his mind. He quickly hid the alcohol and let his hair down, looking over the balcony like a pansy in one of those novels Lilia always shoved in his face.

"Oh, it looks like someone is here already." A low voice spoke, catching Yuri's attention. He turned around, eyes widening a fraction as he took in the sight of the man in front of him. He wore an elegant suit, obviously foreign, but elegant nonetheless. The blonde was immediately drawn to the man's eyes. He stared, mouth partially open, as he inspected his interrupter.

God, why didn't his mother tell him there would be attractive people his age at the gala? He never would have pouted if she had told him.

Okay, maybe he would have. But that wasn't the point. Yuri was stuck there, frozen to the spot, as he tried to decipher what to say.

"It's my house, of course I'm here." The male retorted, mentally cursing himself for being so brash.

The other boy smiled slightly.

"I'm assuming you're Yuriko Plisetsky."

The blonde nodded, curtsying briefly. Another act of perfect etiquette, he wished Lilia were there to see it.

" _Očen' prijatno_. And you are?"

" _Ya takzhe rad vstretit'sya s vami_. Otabek Altin. Prince and heir to the throne of Kazakhstan."

Yuri flushed. Damn, this dude just radiated confidence and a rugged sense of apathy.

He liked it.

"I assume you're here for the gala."

Otabek nodded, walking over and leaning against the balcony with the other male. Yuri looked away.

"I needed some air."

Yuri let out a harsh laugh,"I can imagine. I've been run to the ground by my mother, who is trying to prepare me for the ceremony on my sixteenth birthday."

"What happens then?" Otabek asked, noticing the cup of vodka but not mentioning it. He instead opted to meet the blonde's gaze.

"I am to be married to some man I've never met against my will! Honestly, _'tchyo za ga'lima_? I didn't agree to this!" Yuri huffed, continuing on,"I swear to myself, once I am married, every semblance of my character is going to be bled out! I just want to stay in my bed and not have to marry anyone! Is that so much to ask? My mother hasn't even told me where he's from, what he looks like, anything at all. He could be ugly and disgusting for all I know!"

Silence fell upon the pair, Yuri's small pants of frustration the only thing cutting through the air between them. Suddenly, Yuri realized his mistake, and his face paled.

" _O, Bozhe._ " He whispered, covering his mouth. Fuck, he really disappointed his mother this time. Ranting about this to a person outside his family? What was he thinking? He didn't have any other content to talk about and his personal matters turned into a rant, and he couldn't believe he just said that all in front of someone who was barely an acquaintance.

A laugh erupted from the other man's throat, and Yuri froze. The Kazakh held his stomach and laughed, a good hearty laugh that sent blood rushing to Yuri's face. The man quickly quieted, a small smile on his face as he stood to leave.

"I wish you luck, Yuri. Hopefully your betrothed won't be as bad as you think."

And with those words, Otabek Altin left Yuri speechless on the balcony, face as red as a tomato, and his heart beating so fast it felt like it would leap out of his chest.

What the fuck just happened?

 


	3. The Fault in Being Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri keeps getting a whole bunch of unpleasant surprises and unpleasant requests.  
> -  
> khuyovo: fucking great/(it means "cocks" literally)  
> malysh: little baby  
> Kotyonok: kitten  
> matushka: mother

Yuri almost cried with happiness when the gala finished, immediately discarding his corset and holing himself up in his room much to Yakov Feltsman's dismay. The elder man taught him political and economical tactics, as well as informed him of the (frankly boring) history of Moscow. So far, what Yuri had learned was that other countries are a bunch of materialistic assholes, and that the best way to earn money is to never spend money. He didn't know how this man taught his mother and she turned out sane, the guy is an absolute maniac.

"Yuri! Let me in!"

Yuri groaned, wrapping himself up in one of his most recently stolen pelts,"NO!" He yelled, voice muffled by the mounds of pillows he buried himself in. Angry mumbling could be heard outside the door, and loud heels began to descend down the hallway leading to his room. His eyes shot open. He knew those footfalls, he knew them by heart after years of trying to escape the harsh tyranny of the evil witch that taught him that he had to _sleep a specific way or he would get back problems and die_. Yuri slept the exact opposite way every night and he wasn't dead yet. She was a goddamn liar.

The blonde jumped out of bed, feet padding on the wood floors as he ran to unlock the door before sliding back into bed, a smirk on his face. Now Lilia would think Yakov was an idiot, even more so than usual, when she realizes that the door is unlocked and Yakov could have "just walked right in".

Not moments later, Yuri could hear the scuffle between his two mentors, a smile on his face. He knew they had a connection a very long time ago, but he knew more than anyone else that their connection was definitely not built on understanding and mutual love. Yuri shuddered at the other options left for their companionship.

"Yuri, guests are still here, so it is imperative that you get out here at once before you slander the Plisetsky name!" 

Yuri scoffed. Of course, he wouldn't want that. Might as well tell them he's a boy if he misses his lessons on history, after all, both scandals are surely of the same urgency. He wrapped himself up in a blanket, blocked out the arguments of his instructors, and drifted to sleep.

His dreams were filled with awkward conversations between himself and the stranger named Otabek.

* * *

 Yuri moaned angrily, sunlight streaming right onto his face through the massive window in his bedroom. Throughout the night he had apparently kicked all of his cozy pillows off of the bed, exposing him to the dangers of the sun. He dragged himself out of bed, opening the door and rubbing his eyes as he meandered his way to the dining hall. He was glad for one thing about his mandatory cross-dressing, despite the horrible mental images of him actually becoming a woman. Silk gowns were _fantastic_ to sleep in. The blonde's long hair hung tangled and matted down his back, a silk nightgown flowing off of his body as he padded down too many hallways just to grab a small meal.

He finally rounded the corner to the dining hall, his ears adjusting to the sound of people speaking as he rubbed his eyes. Wait, people? Yuri's eyes snapped open, his pupils widening as he felt his stomach lurch.

Otabek Altin and his family were still here, chatting with with his parents. So Yuri did what he assumed to be the best option. He hauled ass and walked right the fuck out the dining hall and went back to his room. He rang for service, one of the handmaidens so pleasantly acquiring food for him as he sulked in his room. Why didn't he know that those people were going to be staying? Did his parents not trust him or something? He was going to be taking over the throne soon and his parents didn't have the decency to tell him that there would be guests over? Everything was _khuyovo_. Yuri angrily ate his food, choking slightly when he heard three small knocks at his door.

Yuri mumbled a quick 'come in', recognizing the knock pattern to be his grandfather as he rubbed his throat gingerly. The elderly man walked in, sighing and crossing his arms. Yuri crinkled his face grumpily.

"What did I do?"

Nikolai scoffed,"It's what you didn't do, Yura, that's making your parents upset. Did you think they wouldn't notice you storming out of the dining hall like that? The royal family of Kazakhstan will be here until the ceremony on your sixteenth birthday-"

"What?" Yuri sputtered,"No way! Why are they going to stay here?"

His grandfather raised an eyebrow, and Yuri quickly quieted.

"Because your parents offered them a relaxing vacation away from politics. It will only be for a few weeks until the ceremony, Yuratchka. Then they will be gone."

Yuri huffed, poking the meat on his plate with his fork,"I wish they would leave sooner. I want to go downstairs without having to dress properly."

His grandfather let out a bellowing laugh, patting Yuri on the shoulder,"We can get you breakfast in bed if you really want, _malysh_!"

Yuri grumbled,"I'm almost sixteen, I'm not a baby anymore."

His grandfather tutted, shaking his head,"You'll always be my Yuratchka, even when you're old and grey like me!"

Yuri smiled at that, his gaze falling to his plate. He didn't want to say out loud that his grandfather probably wouldn't live long enough to see him turn old and grey.

* * *

 

His mother knocked on his door after the day was almost halfway done, the blonde still soaking wet from his bath as he meandered over to the door. He opened it up, smiling at his mother and letting her in. She was obviously nervous, she had a nervous tic where her fingers tapped against her leg whenever she was overthinking something. Yuri handed her a brush, a silent message that they had that signified that the woman was allowed to play with the boy's long hair. The woman smiled, and they both sat down.

There was a comfortable silence between the pair as the woman carefully brushed and braided the prince's hair, the quiet breathing between them the only noise in the room. Only after fter Yuri's hair was mostly dry and the woman had finished tying the braid did his mother speak.

" _Kotyonok_ , your grandfather and I have decided that you need to spend more time with other royal children your age, so that you can see their transitions firsthand. Otabek Altin-" Yuri paled at the mention of the boy's name. "-will be here with his parents until the ceremony. He is further in his transition than you are, because he is older than you. You could learn something from him. Also, Viktor Nikiforov-"

Yuri whined,"Please don't say that he's coming too."

His mother sighed, draping the boy's braid over his shoulder, but continuing. "Nikiforov will be coming to visit only one week before the ceremony, along with the son of the Emperor of Japan."

" _Katsudon_." Yuri grumbled, an old nickname from when he was younger and the boy accidentally spilled a pork cutlet bowl all over a small and very easily upset Yuri Plisetsky during a political meeting between the royal families. The woman smiled playfully.

"Yes, I figured you would remember. Now seeing as none of them know you are a boy, I'd keep your doors locked as much as possible when you are in your room. I don't want anyone accidentally stumbling upon you changing, and then asking questions that we don't know how to safely answer."

Yuri nodded, his fingers lighting tracing over the smooth bumps of his braid, his gaze directed anywhere but towards his mother.

"Yes,  _matushka_. I will do my best." He murmured, rubbing his arm.

His mother smiled sadly and left Yuri alone.

Why couldn't he have just been a girl?

 


	4. White Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal families have a political meeting away from the Plisetsky castle, leaving Yuri to entertain himself.  
> -  
> kotyonok: kitten  
> proshchay: goodbye  
> on krasivyy: he's handsome  
> Krasavitsa: beautiful (feminine)

Russia's winter usually lasts through December, January, and February. Yuri was always thankful for his March 1st birthday, allowing himself to say that he marked the start of spring every year. His grandfather seemed to find this hilarious the first he heard of it, and the earls and countesses Nikolai spent his time with also picked up the cute little reminder that seven year old Yuri Plisetsky came up with.

Yuri used to love winter, meaning there was only one season left until his birthday. Now, he dreaded every time the snow let up. It meant it grew even closer to the date of his arranged marriage.

" _Kotyonok_! Your father and I will be with the Altins to speak of political matters. Please don't let their son grow bored while we're gone.  _Proshchay_!"

Yuri mumbled a quick goodbye in response, sighing and brushing through his hair one last time. He frowned and stared at himself in the mirror of his vanity, fingers slipping through his platinum strands as the boy's expression faltered. The last thing he wanted to do was entertain Otabek Altin, that guy was weird and there was just something about him that made the blonde feel uncomfortable. His eyes dropped to the pointe shoes he discarded on the floor last week after his ballet lessons, a pang of guilt ripping through his chest as he remembered his mother's voice. _Please, Yura, learn ballet. All of the queens have known how to do ballet, and you are no different. Please, continue the legacy when you become queen. Think of your heir only after you take my place. Focus on yourself._

Yuri loosely tied his long hair into a bun, changing into his dress and looping the laces of the shoes around his calves. He silently padded down the empty halls, the quiet sounds of dishes being cleaned sounding from the kitchen downstairs. The blonde slipped into a brightly lit room, massive windows allowing the white light of Russia's snow to cascade through the panes of glass. Yuri rubbed his nose absentmindedly, dust drifting through the air of the room. When was the last time this studio was cleaned?

His fingers gently wrapped around the pole nailed to the wall, his chest falling as he exhaled. _Think of mother_ , Yuri scolded himself, _think of grandfather. Think of how disappointed they would be if he broke tradition._  The blonde hopped in place for a couple minutes, warming up his body before he attempted to begin his stretches. Completing his warmup, he extended his leg, eyes drifting shut as the familiar sting of the pointe shoes sent aches towards his feet. He quickly reached a comfortable arabesque, his eyes fully shut as he exhaled and lifted further, a vertical split marking the point in where he was fully stretched. The boy smiled softly, remembering the words of Lilia Baranovksaya. 

_Never let the audience know you are struggling with the moves. You will look weak if you do. Ballet may look delicate, but the dancer's body must be strong. Be strong, Yuri._

The boy hummed lightly, performing a quick attitude before moving to a demi-pointe pirouette. Blonde hair escaped the bun, drifting down the prince's back as he leaped into a grande jeté, his legs crossing elegantly in a croisé position. His arms extended, he leapt through the air and twirled en pointe, strands of gold swirling around his body as he dipped his body into a perfect plié. Legs straightening, he rested into third position, one arm drifting from his side and the other framing his waist. A soft smile slipped onto his face, eyes closing as he relaxed into first position and ran his hands through his rogue and now tangled hair.

One curt knock could be heard on the door and Yuri yelped, whipping around to see Otabek opening the door to the room. Obviously, Yuri was the last thing Otabek expected to see. The taller male diverted his gaze to the floor, quickly apologizing.

"I must have remembered the directions wrong. My apologies, Princess Yuriko. Do you know the way to the library?" The male spoke, dipping his head in a small bow. The blonde bit back a blush. He couldn't believe this other boy saw him in his ballet clothes, and he had a _skirt on_ , oh god _he had a skirt on and a very tight shirt_. Otabek probably thought he was the most disgusting looking girl. He didn't even have any breasts. He learned from his relatives that breasts were apparently desirable, due to the incessant bothering of his uncle about how he didn't know why the boy wasn't developing any of them yet and that he would never be a woman without them. Yuri laughed at that. He didn't see what was so nice about them in the first place, he much preferred a firmer chest over a squishy one. Not that he knew from experience.

Yuri flushed,"Yeah, um- the library is just a little further down the hall. It's to the left of the candle stick with the most wax drippings."

Otabek nodded, thanking him quickly before leaving the room and shutting the door. The blonde clutched his hand over his chest, his heart skipping rapidly as the boy stood, still in first position, cyan eyes locked on the door. 

" _On krasivyy._ " Yuri whispered, his cheeks tinged pink as he stood there, frozen to the spot.

* * *

 

Otabek shut the door behind himself, leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes.

" _Krasavitsa_." He breathed out, opening his eyes and walking down the hall away from the ballet studio and towards his own guest room.

He would never tell Yuri that he saw every bit of the performance, the Kazakh's curiosity getting the best of him when he noticed the blonde in ballet attire. The man smiled softly, remembering the way Yuri's face hardened before the graceful performance began. Even in elegance, Otabek Altin believed that Yuri Plisetsky had the face of a leader, the face of a soldier.

The ravenette threw a thick pelt on, walking outside in the bitter cold air of Moscow's winter, the gardens covered in white brilliance.

What a gorgeous place Russia could be.


	5. Sweet Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek and Yuri find solace in silence.  
> -  
> syrniki: russian pancakes  
> valenki: popular russian felt boots  
> lyubov moya: my love  
> Bedá nikogdá ne prikhódit odná: when it rains, it pours. (literal translation is "trouble never comes alone")

The same evening, Yuri's parents returned with smiles on their faces and jokes to spare with the Kazakh royals. The blonde found it suspicious, but said nothing. He wouldn't want to spoil his evening more by pressuring his mother into revealing her political escapades. He was already tense after the interruption from Otabek, leaving him blushing like a madman up until his grandfather knocked on his door and he was temporarily distracted.

That evening, he had a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Yuri had breakfast in bed, savoring the small bites of _syrniki_ and avoiding remembering that he had to go out into the public and "socialize with the people" so that he could get a better grasp on their lifestyle. In all honesty, he hated every part of it. Every month on the first Sunday after people have gone to church, Yuri would have to leave the comfy confines of his castle and speak with people and buy their goods so as to culminate a positive relationship with the people who were not as blessed as he.

And adding to all of the downsides, he had to go out near the end of Russia's winter which is possibly the worst time to go outside in the history of man. At least his grandfather promised him that he could use one of his leopard pelts, eliciting an excited yell from the petite boy before he nearly crushed the elderly man. After finishing breakfast, taking a particularly long and hot bath, and getting dressed in the warmest clothes he had, he padded down the hallways in the leopard fur and felt shoes. His _valenkis_ fit his feet quite snugly, his feet obviously having grown since last winter when the boots were substantially larger than they currently seemed to be. He had leather boots on top of his valenkis, just to keep his feet from soaking in the snow, and he was off. He was about to wave goodbye to his mother and leave before-

"Kotyonok! Are you going out?"

"Yes mother." Yuri had to force himself not to sound pissed. "I'm leaving just now."

The woman beamed, turning to his grandfather who just stood a few feet away,"Go get the Altin's son! This is his third day here and he still hasn't seen the city! Oh Yuriko, please take him?"

Yuri choked,"You can't be serious! You've always said this had to be a private ordeal with no other people besides the guards. Why the change?"

His mother walked over to the boy, smiling sweetly and adjusting his leopard pelt,"It's the Altin's only break from political matters this month, and that includes their son as well. Please try to be a hospitable host, _lyubov moya_?"

Yuri grumbled, but agreed. Within fifteen minutes, Yuri and Otabek stood awkwardly by the front gates of the castle, wind whipping against their faces as they adjusted their scarves. The blonde met the Kazakh's gaze, flushing and glaring at the other boy.

"What? Is there a problem?"

Otabek looked taken aback for a moment before shaking his head,"No."

The walk to the nearby village was maximum five minutes if you walked at a slow pace, but to Yuri, it felt like ages. His fingers were cramping from the cold, and the Kazakh standing next to him didn't seem to look affected at all, which just pissed the blonde off more. Kazakhstan always had a higher temperature than Moscow, how did he look so comfortable? The Russian let his gaze drop to the large coat the male was wearing, noting the way the fur extended just far enough so that it was brushing up against the other man's jaw, his hair concealed by a thick hat. He liked the other male's hair, he wished he could pull off the undercut like the Kazakh could. The blonde swallowed, staring straight ahead as they crunched through fresh snow, finally reaching the village.

Despite the cold weather, multiple stands were still up, selling fresh meat and jerky to the small groups of people walking around. The blonde immediately walked up to the stand he was most familiar with, red hair peeking out from under the hat of one of the friends he had met on his little adventures many years ago. The blonde crossed his arms and stood in front of the stand, glaring at the woman before her eyes lit up and she jumped over the table.

"YURIKO! I missed you so much!" The girl yelled, Yuri sputtering out a cry for help as the redhead crushed his ribs.

"Mi-la-" Yuri gasped, shoving her away and brushing himself off, shooting her a quick glare. The girl just laughed, beaming and patting Yuri on the head.

"You've grown taller!"

"And you've been lifting." Yuri grumbled, rubbing his arms. The girl's eyes brightened, her hands falling over her heart.

"You've noticed? I've been helping out with my father's business. He has me carrying crates, hunting, the like." Yuri's heart sank. Mila frowned, taking hold of Yuri's hand.

"Oh, I know you want to hunt. But when you're queen," She winked, smiling,"And you will be, you can hunt as much as you want. You make the rules, remember?"

Yuri nodded, huffing and rubbing his nose that had reddened from the cold. He had almost forgot about Otabek, who was patiently waiting in the same place that the blonde had ditched him. The Kazakh nodded to Yuri, and the blonde flushed. A low whistle could be heard.

"Who's that hottie? You're not dating him, are yo-"

"I'm not!" Yuri snapped, Mila raising an eyebrow and smiling. Her eyes switched back and forth between the pair, a smile on her face. With every passing second, Yuri's face turned a shade pinker.

"So does that mean I can date him?"

"NO!"

Yuri froze, startled at his own quick reaction and he noticed some people staring. He quickly covered his face, not wanting to make eye contact with a beaming Mila Babicheva.

"So you like him?"

"Stop," Yuri whispered angrily, leaning over the booth,"He's just here until the ceremony on my sixteenth birthday, and then he's leaving."

Mila hummed playfully, tapping her chin,"Just because he's leaving doesn't mean you can't like him. I'll probably still enjoy remembering that dashing face even after he's _long_ gone."

He could feel himself about to implode, his hands clenched by his sides as the redhead smiled, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Yuri sneered, stomping back towards Otabek, who looked mildly concerned but said nothing. The moment before he reached arms length from the Kazakh he misjudged the depth of the snow, a slight stumble in his step sending him sprawling onto- Otabek's chest? His gaze met the other man's and his face burned, his eyes immediately diverting.

The blonde took a small step back, brushing off any remnant snow and staring at the ground.

"Thank you." He murmured quietly before beginning to walk back towards the castle. He was done for the day.

 _Bedá nikogdá ne prikhódit odná_ , Yuri thought to himself as the pair walked silently back to the castle.

But the blonde had to admit, the silence was comfortable.

And as much as he hated it, so was the other man's chest.

 


	6. New Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek reflects on life, and especially on the past couple weeks he has spent with Yuri. (Otabek's POV)

_"Otabek, there's something your mother and I need to discuss with you."_

_The boy looked up from his book, his eyes bright, as he was coming off of the high of his sixteenth birthday party. He nodded, closing his book and turning his attention to his parents. The man and woman exchanged a meaningful glance, before his father turned to him._

_"We have set up a marriage for you. In two year's time, you will have married the woman you are betrothed to. It is our country's best bet at staying out of a war."_

_The boy dipped his head down, nodding once._

_"I understand, father. Thank you for telling me."_

_His parents exchanged a small whisper before leaving Otabek to read his book._

* * *

 

After meeting Yuri on the balcony, the blonde never failed to surprise the Kazakh. Everywhere Yuri went, trouble and drama seemed to follow. And despite Otabek strongly avoiding both of those things, he found it greatly amusing to watch the Russian get angry at practically everything. He could admit, there was a certain fire behind Yuri's eyes that he just couldn't pinpoint. Every day he tried to make an effort to speak to the Russian, but every time he took one step towards the blonde, the other would turn bright red and stomp off, acting offended.

The older man would often catch Yuri over the past couple of weeks doing ballet, and it was to the point now where the blonde would actually let him sit in with little to no back talk or huffing. The first instance of Otabek asking permission to see Yuri practice was a albeit awkward, however.

_"You have to leave if you mess me up, practice is important. Don't say a word. I can't focus if you say anything."_

_Otabek nodded, murmuring a quick 'okay' before taking a seat in one of the few chairs in the room. Yuri flushed, furrowing his brows angrily and crossing his arms._

_"And don't clap. That's distracting too."_

_Otabek raised an eyebrow curiously, but nodded. Yuri was obviously becoming antsy, the blonde's face turning a lovely shade of pink as he fumbled for what to say. Otabek quirked the corner of his mouth up in a small smile, pushing himself into a standing position from the chair. He didn't want to disrupt the royal during ballet. Yuri sputtered._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"It's fine if you don't want to practice in front of me. I was just curious. I hope-"_

_"Stay." Yuri blurted out, a light flush dusting across Otabek's face at the single word. He nodded silently, sitting down and marveling at the beauty and elegance that was Yuri Plisetsky. After Yuri's ballet practice, they ate pirozhkis and talked until dawn. He couldn't remember a time before when he was so content._

Otabek could tell Yuri didn't want him there. After all, their first meeting was the blonde ranting about how much it would suck to be married to anyone, especially him. The Kazakh had to admit, even without knowing the other, it was still kind of rough to hear that from the Russian's mouth. He would handle it, though. If not for his country, then for himself. He had started to like the company of the blonde, and he dreaded going back to Kazakhstan where the only company he held were his books and the women that seemed to drape themselves over him during his family's galas.

Being with Yuri had become routine. He had even become close with the common girl at the stand that Yuri liked, and Otabek decided for himself to visit every day to buy something for Yuri in exchange for a small story about the blonde. Mila was more than happy to provide him with the information, and they harbored a lovely friendship over the past two weeks, despite Yuri's grumblings of how Mila was a liar and an old hag.

_"So Yuri and I have known each other for years. That little kitten has always been so grumpy, it doesn't run in the family, I know that. The queen is so sweet! I think if Yuri got a boyfriend or someone then that little frown would turn upside down." Mila said, a favorite phrase of hers to say especially when serving customers._

Otabek rarely talked when he went to see Mila. He just wanted to know more about Yuri, because the Russian Fairy never seemed to want to be around him except for when he was busy. Today was the eve of the day Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki were to arrive in Moscow, and the Kazakh knew that he would never get anything done with Viktor in the castle. They, unfortunately, had met before. Otabek was overwhelmed by his presence, to say the least.

"Beka." Yuri barked, knocking on the door to his room. Otabek looked up from his papers, blinking a couple times. Since when did Yuri call him Beka?

"Otabek, get your ass out here!"

Otabek set down his quill, standing up and walking to the door and opening it.

"I'm writing to Kazakhstan's neighboring countries, besides Russia of course, about trade agreements. It's almost-"

The Kazakh froze, pausing unintentionally before continuing,"-March."

Yuri stood in a scarlet red ball gown with a train, the material adorned with jewels and embroidery that would make even the finest tailor jealous. Yuri's blonde hair was curled, draping over the shoulders of the dress. Otabek could feel his mouth go dry. Yuri was visibly uncomfortable, shifting feet and avoiding eye contact.

"I'm getting married in a week, I don't know if you remembered or, well, you probably remember. My mother gave me a few dresses to try on for the ceremony, and this one is the one I preferred, but I wanted a second opinion, just to make sure I don't look like total shit. Even though my betrothed will probably be awful, I might as well look good. For myself, at least." There was a small silence, and the Russian flushed almost the same shade of scarlet as the dress,"So what do you think?"

The man stood, silent, smiling softly,"You look lovely. The dress suits you."

Yuri nodded, gaze falling to the floor. "Thank you. I just want to make sure I look halfway decent, or else my mother will have my head for misrepresenting my country."

The Russian laughed awkwardly before meeting Otabek's gaze with a harsh determination.

"Beka, we'll still be friends after I get married, right?"

Otabek had to hold back a laugh, a large smile forming on his face instead. He chuckled lowly, meeting the gaze of his betrothed.

"Of course. Friends?"

Otabek held out a hand. Yuri's eyes brightened, a smile appearing on the blonde's face.

"Friends."

They shook hands, parted ways for the night, and each lay in their bed.

Despite having a big day coming up with Viktor and Yuuri, Otabek couldn't fall asleep right away. Still high on nerves, he worried what Yuri would say when it was revealed that Otabek was the betrothed the blonde so passionately hated. The Kazakh couldn't pretend he liked Yuriko just as friends, he felt his feelings were far too obvious to hide. However, he and Yuri, as he had found out over the past few weeks, were exceedingly awful in the "expressing emotions" department.

He only hoped the week would go by slowly so that maybe he would have time to explain what he felt _before_ the wedding.


	7. Meeting Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor arrive. Yuri hates himself.  
> -  
> perestat' byt' brutto: stop being gross  
> privetik: hello (informal)  
> mu'dak: asshole  
> po'shyol 'na hui: fuck off  
> derr`mo: shit

Yuri sensed when Viktor and Yuuri had arrived. Of course he knew. It was his castle, of course he would be able to tell when people were becoming disgustingly affectionate. Also, he could hear Yuuri complaining about Viktor hugging him in front of Yuri's parents. The blonde stomped out of his room, leaning over the railing and glaring at the Russian who was standing there and smothering his Japanese boyfriend.

"VIKTOR! _PERESTAT' BYT' BRUTTO_!"

Viktor glanced up at Yuri, beaming and waving towards the blonde with his arm still around the floundering emperor's son," _Privetik_ , Yurio!"

Yuri growled,"That's not my name and you know it,  _mu'dak_!"

The platinum haired royal just laughed, releasing Katsudon, whom Yuri also gave a pointed glare. The Japanese man just raised an eyebrow, smiling softly. Yuri huffed. Katsudon and Viktor were the only ones outside of his family who knew about his gender, so he guessed there was some small part of him that trusted them with that information. Probably because they spent more time making out than actually talking to other people. That in itself was a huge problem.

Russian aristocrats like Viktor and himself were held to a higher standard than the rest of the country's population. Even committing a single scandal could get you imprisoned, especially in much more strict areas like Saint Petersburg, Viktor's home. Moscow was a much more liberal place, due to most of its inhabitants being far more educated and even some commoners were educated beyond primary school. Nikiforov was, unfortunately, not so lucky.

Once revealed that he was interested in the Japanese emperor's son, he was banished from the region by his own country. He didn't have any friends there, which suprised Yuri due to his extroverted personality, so Viktor spent a little under a year in Moscow working for Yuri's parents before he finally saved up enough money to travel to Japan. This all happened many years ago, when Yuri was around the age of eleven. Japan almost removed Yuuri from the country, but the Emperor and Empress refused to banish their only son, and Viktor had been spending the past five years with Yuuri. The blonde threw up in his mouth a little when he thought of all the stuff they must have done while alone. But now, now he had to deal with them both in front of him.

"Hello, Yurio! It's nice to see you. I like your hair." Yuuri said, waving at the blonde with a smile.

Yuri scoffed,"Whatever."

He walked down the stairs, already dressed for the day after finishing his breakfast a little under an hour ago. He had soup for breakfast because he felt like it, which resulted in him tying his hair into a high ponytail. Despite the height, it still managed to fall past his shoulders and into his goddamn soup. He had a bad morning.

"Hey Yura." A voice sounded from across the banquet hall, and Yuri flushed. Of course he would recognize Otabek's deep voice, he had been there for the past two weeks, it would have been a feat to forget it. The blonde turned around, meeting the gaze of Otabek, who was walking up, book under one arm and a cup of coffee held by the other. A cup of coffee with far too much sugar. Yuri didn't know how such a daunting man could fill his cup with three parts sugar, one part coffee. It was disgusting.

"Hey Beka." He replied,"Have you met these two yet?" He asked, gesturing to the lovebirds with his head. The Kazakh nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. Yuri exhaled in relief. Viktor always assumes anyone Yuri introduces him to is his boyfriend or girlfriend, as if he's more excited about the prospect of him having a significant other than Yuri himself is. Yuri glanced at Viktor, who had a look.

The blonde grimaced, mouthing  _po'shyol 'na hui_ before shooing the pair off. The Russian and Japanese men exchanged a look, smirked at Yuri (well, Viktor did, Yuuri just sort of sent an apologetic but hopeful side-eye), and left him with Otabek.

The Kazakh took another swig of his coffee, keeping eye contact with Yuri. The blonde frowned slightly, wondering what Otabek was thinking. He seemed like he was thinking about something, which worried Yuri. If Otabek had to think about something, it must be important. Yuri shrunk slightly, mouth shut as he stood in front of Otabek, who was continuing to drink his coffee.

"Yura." Otabek finally said, Yuri making a small squeak in surprise when the other man spoke.

"Yeah?"

"You know you can trust me with anything, right?"

 _Derr`mo_.

"Yeah, the feeling is mutual." Yuri murmured, a nervous flush starting to appear on his ears. What was Otabek trying to get at? Did he know that he was a boy? Was he going to hate him? Oh god, he wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Otabek has been the only person he's ever fully enjoyed the company of, he couldn't lose him, that wasn't an option.

Otabek suddenly looked uncomfortable, his gaze momentarily flickering to the side as he continued. Yuri could feel his stomach plummeting down to the core of the earth.

"Yuri, I need to tell you something."

The blonde swallowed, despite the fact his mouth felt like the Sahara. Oh god. This was it. He's never going to see Otabek again. Fuck, he didn't think it would be this painful to think about.

"We're going to be married."

Yuri froze.

Suddenly, he rose an eyebrow,"Seriously Beka? You know you don't have to tell jokes for my sake. I'm honestly not that upset about Viktor being here, even though I have been bitching about him all week, but you don't need to try and cheer me up with something funny. I'm-"

Otabek's face was firm, his eyes boring into Yuri's. The blonde paled, his face falling. He was serious. _Oh god_ , he was serious. He was going to marry Otabek? He would marry anyone, _anyone_ , but Beka. He didn't want to tell Beka he was a boy. He didn't. He would hate Yuri forever, he would think he was a liar and a criminal, oh god _anyone but Otabek Altin would be a better option for a betrothed_. This would ruin everything. Otabek would hate him. Otabek would _hate_ him. _Otabek Altin would want him dead. The only person he had ever wanted to hold close was going to hate him the minute he knew._

"Yuri, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier-"

Yuriko Plisetsky sprinted up to his room and locked the door, his heart pounding. He swallowed, his throat burning and his eyes beginning to ache. Tears began to flow freely, a quiet sob wracking his body as he crumpled to the ground, his back pressed against his bedroom door. He gripped the edge of his dress, covering his face with the material as he struggled to breath through his shuddering breaths in between sobs.

What he and Otabek had was simple. They enjoyed each other's company, and they spoke very little. It was a comfortable relationship that Yuri had gotten used to over the past two weeks, and something he didn't want to give up. A week from now, he would be rejected by his first close friend. A week from now, Otabek Altin would leave and _never_ come back. He would never see Otabek again. Yuri gasped for air between sobs, clutching his chest. He didn't want Beka to go. He didn't want Beka to know about him, that he was a he. He didn't want Beka to leave. _He didn't want Beka to leave him alone again._

* * *

Otabek knocked thrice on the door to another guest room, his hands clenched firmly against his sides. A shuffled could be heard behind the door, and Viktor popped his head out, beaming.

"So how'd it go? Was he excited to know?"

Otabek scowled,"Not exactly."

Viktor hummed in confusion, leaning behind the door to whisper something to Yuuri, turning to the Kazakh. He opened the door more wide, gesturing for him to come in. Otabek obliged, sitting down on the sofa in the corner of the room. Viktor frowned, sitting on the bed alongside Yuuri.

"So what happened?"

"Yuri ran into his room and started crying."

Yuuri froze, mouth opening slightly,"Like, quiet crying? Or-"

"He sounded like he was having trouble breathing. Viktor, you told me-"

Yuuri scrambled off of the bed, sprinting out of the room. Viktor frowned, standing up and gesturing for Otabek to follow as he ran out of the room. Yuri's bedroom door was wide open, the sound of crying and Yuuri's voice trying to calm the blonde down. Viktor ran into the room, holding up a hand to prevent Otabek from coming inside. The Kazakh peered in, his heart dropping.

Yuuri had removed the boy's corset, allowing him free range to breathe. He was having an anxiety attack. Both Viktor and Yuuri were murmuring calming things, each of them holding one of Yuri's hands. Yuri continued to cry, but Otabek could tell his breathing was becoming more regular.

"Yurio, talk to us, tell us what's wrong."

"He- He- Beka can't know- He can't know I'm a boy. He'll _hate_ me, Yuuri- He'll-" Yuri started to cry harder, the Japanese man immediately pulling the younger into a tight hug.

"Shhh... it'll be okay. I promise. He won't hate you. He likes you, he would never hate you, I promise, I promise."

Yuuri and Viktor exchanged a glance as Yuri's cries quieted, and the Russian stood up, shutting the door and blocking Otabek's view of Yuri as they both stood out in the hallway. Otabek felt like he was numb. Viktor's forehead was creased with worry, his hand in his hair.

"Otabek, I thought you-"

"I did know."

"When?"

"Both his and my own parents told me after I was here for a week."

"And you haven't told Yurio?"

"I assumed he knew-"

"Well he didn't." Viktor snapped quietly, his eyes furious,"Yurio has been told his entire life that he needs to hide who he is just so he can become someone important or needed. He thinks you're going to hate him because he knows that if anyone else knew, they would actually hate him. He'd be hung, Otabek. You need to tell him that you know or you're going to make him suffer until your consummation, for fucks sake! He really likes you, he does. He's head over heels for you. The only other time I've seen him like that was when he was given a tiger pelt for his eleventh birthday."

"I'm not a tiger pelt."

"That's not the point," Viktor murmured, sighing in exasperation,"The point is that he loved that tiger pelt, and whether he knows it or not, he loves you in a weird sort of Yurio way too. He cried just as hard when he lost the pelt. What I'm saying is that you need to make up with him, tell him everything's going to be okay, something."

Viktor let out an awkward laugh,"I bet that was how I looked when I thought I wouldn't be able to see Yuuri ever again."

The Russian man sighed, his eyes flitting to the quiet bedroom door.

"Protect Yuriko. His emotions are amplified due to the fact that he always bottles them up, so when he does release, he often compromises his mental health and his relationships with others. Please be understanding."

Otabek nodded, his mind still trying to wrap around everything as he stood, frozen to the spot. Yuuri slipped out of Yuri's room a moment later, smiling weakly at the pair before Viktor whispered something to Yuuri. The Japanese man's face contorted in confusion, and the pair seemed to have a heated conversation.

Otabek blocked them out. He walked into Yuuri's room, eyes drifting across the room until he saw the blonde hair. The boy was wrapped up in blankets, his back facing the door as he laid down in bed. The Kazakh took small steps towards the bed, smiling softly at the quiet sounds Yuri made when he was resting. He must have been exhausted.

"Yuri." He murmured, his hand smoothing back the boy's hair, his thumb brushing over his cheek.

"Yura." He spoke a little bit louder, the boy stirring and opening his eyes. For a moment his blue eyes widened with horror as he sat up, but then his eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Beka-"

"Yura, I know you're a boy."

Silence filled the room, the tears sliding down the boy's face.

"I understand if you don't want to marry me." Yuri whispered, sniffling as more tears slid down his face.

Otabek frowned.

"Why would I want to marry anyone but you?"

Yuri froze, chin trembling as he spoke,"I'm not a girl, I'm not pretty, and I'm probably going to be a shit queen, Beka. You don't want to marry me."

The blonde sobbed quietly, wiping off his face with the back of his hand.

"Yura, look at me."

Yuri listened, red-rimmed eyes meeting Otabek's soft gaze. He could see the blonde swallowing nervously.

"I would rather marry my best friend than anyone on this entire planet. Yuri, even if I didn't know you were a boy until the day of the wedding, I still wouldn't have cared."

"But it's not traditional-"

Otabek shot a look at Yuri,"Since when have you ever cared about being traditional."

Yuri laughed, a quiet cry escaping as he wiped the tears from his eyes,"Never."

Yuri and Otabek exchanged a smile, laughing as they heard excited whispering coming from behind the bedroom door where Viktor and Yuuri were.

"By the way, Viktor tried to threaten me."

Yuri rolled his eyes and scoffed,"Of course he did. Fucking old man. I'm surprised he's not dead yet. He has so many white hairs."

_"I DO NOT!"_

Yuri laughed, Otabek smiling in response as he looked down at his betrothed. Their gazes met, Yuri's red rimmed eyes still looking as beautiful as they were before. They both smiled gently. 

They sit up in bed and continue talking for the rest of the night, and Otabek learns very quickly that there's nothing quite like seeing Yuri smile.

 


	8. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenagers are awkward.

Yuri thought it would have been easier to talk to Otabek once the other man knew that he was a boy. But somehow, it just made him feel even more uncomfortable. Still pressured by his mother to wear his dresses around the handmaidens and servants, the blonde boy now had to voluntarily cross dress in front of people who knew what his real gender was. This made it increasingly tense during dinner the next day, When Viktor Nikiforov and his boyfriend decided to play a game.

The platinum haired man smiled, leaning his chin on his hand as he stared across the table at Yuri. Yuri was wedged between Yuuri and his parents, right across from Otabek who had the unfortunate situation of being next to Viktor and on his other side, his Kazakh parents.

"Yurio, how come you look so pretty in dresses? Yuuri would never wear dresses in public for me." Viktor pouted, nudging the blushing Japanese man with his foot under the table,"Yuuri~, will you wear a dress to Yurio's ceremony?"

Yuuri choked on his food, frantically shaking his head,"Absolutely not!" He squeaked. Yuri became red in the face as his knuckles turned white, clutching his fork so tightly it hurt. Otabek quietly observed, cutting his food and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. At least the parents were making their own conversation.

The older Russian pouted,"But Yuuri! I want to see you wear a traditional Russian wedding dress! That's not fair that Yurio gets to have one but you don't!"

"Well Otabek hasn't even seen one yet, Viktor." Yuuri hummed, taking a bite of his food. Both Otabek and Yuri's heads dropped, and they suddenly became very interested in their food. The Japanese man raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his tea and eyeing the pair. The blonde was awful at hiding his blush. Viktor obviously didn't pick up on the cues, as he was very content with Yuuri's answer despite not feeling fully satisfied with the fact his boyfriend wasn't going to be wearing a dress. Katsuki smiled. Yuri grumbled.

"Let's go on a trip today!" Yuuri grinned, setting down his coffee. "All four of us. It'll be fun! I haven't been to Russia in years, and I really want to watch a Russian play! I've been brushing up on my Russian. By the way, Yurio, it wasn't very nice to call my fiancee an asshole yesterday."

Yuri choked on his spoon," _Fiancee_?"

Viktor beamed, holding up his hand and pointing to his right hand, adorned with a golden ring,"We didn't want you to have all the fun, now did we? We wanted it to be a surprise so we just acted like boyfriends yesterday and didn't wear the rings! Did we fool you?"

Yuri fumed,"You always act the same whether or not you're engaged: _disgusting_."

Viktor laughed,"Oh Yurio, always a spoilsport."

Otabek and Yuri made eye contact, the Kazakh's lips quirking up in a small smile before his gaze fell, taking a sip of his coffee like the exchange didn't happen. Yuri blushed, staring down at his food. Viktor caught the moment, smirking and winking at Yuuri, who rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Fine, we can go to a play." Yuri grumbled finally after the meal, much to the excitement of Viktor.

* * *

 

Within the hour, the four men were walking towards the Moscow Theater, lucky that there was a play playing that night that didn't involve too much romance for Yuri's tastes. Viktor and Yuuri were walking happily, their linked hands obscured by their heavy coats. Despite Moscow being very open minded, men were still not allowed to have relationships publically. Yuri and Otabek walked side by side, and the blonde was painfully aware of the fact that his hand was near Beka's. The Kazakh walked, staring forward and occasionally glancing around, with his gloved hands by his sides. Their fingers brushed for a moment and Yuri flinched, his chest warming as sparks shot through his arm. Otabek must have felt it too because his hand jolted away, as if he had just touched something hot. Yuri noticed it, but Otabek refused to meet Yuri's gaze, his face flushing. It could have just been the cold, though.

The pair continued walking, following behind Yuuri and Viktor who were in their own little world. The soft crunch of snow under their feet and the faint voices of people in the town combined to make a pleasant atmosphere, despite the bitter cold. Yuri blamed the cold for the fact that he gravitated towards the Kazakh man. Yuri blamed the cold for his hand edging closer to Otabek's. Yuri blamed the cold for the reason why Otabek didn't flinch away, but instead linked his pinky with the blonde's.

Yuri blamed the cold for his flushed face when they reached the theater and he had to release the warm hand he had eventually fully intertwined fingers with.

Yuri blamed the cold for the reason his hand felt empty.

When they arrived, they were immediately ushered to Yuri's theater box. It was one of the perks of most establishments in Moscow recognizing the princess of Moscow and "her" needs; Yuri was often vocal about what he wanted. Once they were shown the box, Yuri immediately sat in one of the back two chairs, the box seating four but having a raised platform so the further seats could see over the other two. The blonde adjusted his dress, fussing with his coat before Otabek sat down next to him and helped him slide it off. The Kazakh took the coats and folded them, placing them aside and Yuri muttering a quick 'thank you' before he sunk into his seat. Yuuri and Viktor sat in front of the pair, quickly getting comfortable and giggling about "old times" or some sappy shit. Yuri scoffed, peering towards the stage curiously. The play they were about to see had apparently been transposed from English to Russian, and was about English conquests over the world. The blonde thought it was ridiculous, but it was better than a love story because he couldn't imagine how awkward it would be to try and ignore the lovebirds potentially making out in front of them.

The candles were snuffed near the audience, leaving the stage the only part of the theater lighted. Yuri glanced over at Otabek, smiling slightly at the other male who seemed to be very interested in the actors setting the scene, his dark eyes flitting back and forth. The blonde blinked, flushing, before turning his attention to the performance.

At some point in time, Yuri and Otabek had shifted so their shoulders were touching. That exact moment was when Yuri stopped comprehending the plot.  Words flowed in one ear and out the other, the only thing he could focus on being the feeling of the Kazakh's arm touching his own. The Russian's heart rate sped up, swallowing nervously as he tried to calm down.

The candles were re-lit, the theater becoming light once more. Was the play over already? Yuri blinked aimlessly, Otabek's warmth gone. He glanced around, startled. The other man had his own coat on, holding the blonde's coat up as if to help him put it on. The Russian blushed, standing from his seat and slipping his arms through the holes of his jacket and buttoning it up. The four men walked back, Yuri ignoring Viktor's critical rants about "lack of passion in the performance". Otabek and Yuri walked silently once more and the blonde had to swallow his pride. He bit his lip, breathing out a puff of hot breath into the brisk air.

He slipped his hand into Otabek's, fumbling a bit awkwardly to intertwine his fingers correctly before he stared straight ahead, setting his jaw. The Kazakh looked down at Yuri, albeit surprised, but content. The blonde's heart squeezed painfully as Otabek gripped his hand a little tighter, his vision swimming with worry. Did that mean he wanted to let go? Did that mean-

Otabek brushed his thumb over Yuri's knuckles, a small blush slipping onto the Russian's face as they walked. His doubts disappeared.

That moment the Katsudon glanced back at the pair, smiling and turning back to Viktor and whispering something. Was that in Japanese? Yuri grumbled as Viktor responded in Japanese as well. How was he supposed to eavesdrop if he didn't know what they were saying? The only Japanese word he knew was _katsudon_. That was fucking it.

"They're talking about how they're going to have celebratory sex because we're holding hands." Otabek murmured, his expression static as they walked. Yuri fumed.

"What?"

Otabek glanced down at the blonde,"You were angry that you couldn't understand them. You made that sound."

Yuri blushed, scoffing,"What sound?"

The Kazakh thought for a moment, looking back at the road they were walking on before continuing,"You make a sound when you're angry but don't feel like saying anything."

"I do?"

"You make that sound a lot."

Yuri grumbled, and Otabek smiled.

"That sound."

The blonde flushed, pulling his hand away from the Kazakh and crossing his arms defiantly,"Whatever."

The rest of the way back to the castle felt like an eternity, his hand frigid once they reached the castle. When the blonde finally laid in bed, he smiled and curled up in his favorite snow leopard pelt, falling right to sleep while thinking of Otabek's smile. He didn't know the last time he had felt this happy.


	9. Long Talks and Quiet Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri misses Otabek.  
> -  
> `suka: bitch

Four days until his marriage ceremony. Four days until Otabek and him were married. Married. It was such a weird word to say. Even though he was a boy, would he still be the girl in the relationship? What did Otabek think of this whole situation? What did Otabek think of being his husband? Yuri flushed, his gaze falling away from the setting sun. The day was uneventful, politics interfering with Yuri's ability to see his best friend and his parents. With Viktor and Yuuri out of the castle so they could sight see more, Yuri felt more lonely than he had in weeks.

Yakov and Lilia collectively decided (with much persuasion from Yuuri, who had seemed to steal their hearts) that Yuri needed time off of his etiquette and history lessons until the day before the ceremony. That meant that Yuri had no excuse other than Otabek and the lovebirds to leave his room, and with their absence, the blonde was literally still in his pajamas. He had braided his hair, leaving it draped over his shoulder as he leaned against the balcony edge where he and the Kazakh had first met. The Russian smiled, remembering when he had ranted about how he was never, ever, going to like his betrothed.

It was to be an act of defiance, but he had ended up liking Otabek before he even knew he was to marry him, which ended up as a pretty poor attempt.

He slumped over the edge, crossing his arms so he wouldn't fall over the edge as the wind rustled his hair, strands threatening to come loose as the gentle reds and pinks of the sky dulled over the plain Russian horizon.

He hoped Otabek stayed in Moscow with him, and that he wouldn't have to move to Kazakhstan. He lived in Almaty, as Yuri found out last week, in a large house away from any major cities. The Kazakh gave off a very introverted vibe, but Yuri was pleasantly surprised to find that the other man was very sociable, albeit taciturn, when he finally opened up. Yuri was pleasantly surprised to find that Otabek smiled, and even more surprised when he realized most of the man's smiles were solely for the blonde.

The Russian smiled, closing his eyes and basking in the frigid air of the receding winter.

"Oh, it looks like someone is here already."

The blonde's eyes snapped open, turning around and grinning at the other man, who had his arms crossed and a small smile playing on his lips. Yuri walked towards him, crossing his arms.

"So what was it like, spending almost the entire day wanting to die?"

Otabek chuckled,"Surprisingly not that bad."

Not the answer Yuri wanted to hear, a pout slipping onto his features,"You were gone all day and I had to sit on my ass and do nothing."

"That's not my fault."

"But it is!" Yuri huffed, poking the man's chest,"You left me alone and since Katsudon and Viktor weren't here either, I wasn't motivated to do anything or get up."

The Kazakh raised an eyebrow,"Yura-"

The Russian growled,"Don't _Yura_ me, Beka. I was bored all day."

Otabek said nothing, an eyebrow raised, and a slightly irritated Yuri in front of him. A comfortable silence fell between the pair, a cold wind dusting over the faces of the men. The sky darkened slightly, their eyes meeting and Yuri's face flushing slightly. Otabek's gaze fell and he reached out to brush his fingers over the blonde's braid, humming quietly.

"Have you ever thought of cutting your hair shorter?"

Yuri froze. His hair? Shorter? Did Otabek not know the reason why he had to keep it so long? He had to convince people he was a woman. He had to or he would be forcibly removed from the throne and his family. It wasn't like in Japan, where the Emperor and Empress could convince the people to accept their family's "shortcomings". Russia was very different. The blonde's gaze fell, his hands instinctively wrapping around his long braid.

"Cutting my hair?"

Otabek nodded,"Have you ever cut your hair?"

Yuri thought for a moment, before frowning,"No, I don't think so. I've just let it grow. It getting pretty long though, isn't it?" He murmured, his fingers fiddling with the end of his long braid. He could hear Otabek moving behind him.

"Yes, but it doesn't look bad. Can I-?" The Kazakh murmured, his hands hovering over the braid. The blonde nodded, flushing. The bow was slid off, blonde hair flowing gently in the evening air as Otabek ran his fingers through it, collecting it all in one hand. He carefully began braiding, the blonde fiddling with his fingers as he stood awkwardly, his betrothed's fingers slipping strands between each other. The soothing sensation almost lulled him into a nap, but his wobbly feet made him realize that now was a bad time to pass out.

Within a couple minutes, Otabek was done braiding, and the sun was only moments away from setting completely. Yuri quietly thanked him, fingers dusting over the smooth bumps of the knots. He turned around, glancing up at the other man. He had an odd expression that Yuri couldn't quite pinpoint, so he attempted to make small talk.

"How did you learn to braid?" He murmured, walking over to lean against the balcony. Otabek followed suit, his gaze never leaving Yuri's.

"I have sisters."

"How many?"

"Two. They're almost as entitled as you." Otabek hummed, a small smile on his face. Yuri fumed.

"Hey! I'm not entitled! Just because I have preferences doesn't mean I'm a brat!"

The man laughed, a steady blush crawling over Yuri's face at the sound.

"Whatever you say, Yura."

"Shut up. _`Suka_." Yuri murmured grumpily, a smile threatening to plaster itself on his face as Otabek smiled down at him.

Another comfortable silence followed, and Yuri remembered something, his heart feeling heavy.

"Hey, Beka?" He interrupted the silence, shifting his feet.

"Yeah?"

The blonde swallowed, mouth feeling dry.

"I know you weren't exactly given a choice in this whole matter, but how do you feel about becoming my husband?" The words felt foreign on his tongue. "I want to know. In less than a week, we'll be..." Yuri grumbled shyly,"You know."

Otabek said nothing, his eyes flitting to the setting sun.

"I don't know how I feel yet." Bullshit. He knew he thought Yuri was stunning. He knew he wanted to be Yuri's husband. He knew that Yuri's gender didn't matter whenever he thought about how nice he felt when around the other man. He knew how he felt, but he didn't want to scare him by saying that _yes, he wouldn't mind in the least bit about marrying his best friend._  

Yuri nodded, expression blank. Otabek wondered, _What happened? Was it something he said?_

"Otabek?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever get lonely?"

"Sometimes."

"Can I request something from you?"

"Shoot."

"Don't ever leave me by myself again."

"Don't worry, Yura. I wasn't planning on leaving you anyway."

 


	10. The Eve of the Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to Yuri's annoyance, he remembers that many of the royal families arriving for his ceremony are going to be at his castle early.  
> -  
> Pozhaluysta: please  
> pozhaluysta, ne delayte mne: please don't make me  
> Net: no  
> Ya sdelayu eto, no ya ne budu naslazhdat'sya etim: I'll do it, but I won't enjoy it  
> Spasibo: thank you  
> Dobroe utro: good morning  
> zvedza: star  
> -  
> (also JJ is French but lives in Canada. Hope there's not too many people who are upset about that ;(( 
> 
> (also before the 20th century Czech lands were called Bohemia so I didn't change Emil's nationality I promise)

Two days until his wedding. Tomorrow Yuri had to brush up on his politics and etiquette before the ceremony, which he was not pleased about. He found himself rather knowledgeable and elegant without the lessons. (His mother would insist he was that way _because_ of the lessons, but he rarely listened to her retorts anyway). The blonde brushed out his hair, lazily braiding it to one side and tying it with a string. His eyes drifted down to his dress, smoothing out the lace and his hands drifting over the corset that he wore. He wondered if Otabek would like him more if he had a more full and feminine figure. His hands trailed down to his hips, a small frown on his face. How would Otabek have kids? How would he fool his country about a pregnancy? _No_ , Yuri thought, _in two days you'll be sixteen, and you'll be married. Focus on the now._

Two curt knocks sounded on his bedroom door, and his mother entered, a sweet smile on her face. Yuri smiled in return, turning towards his mother.

"Yuriko, you look so beautiful."

Yuri grumbled before giving in, murmuring a quick thank you. The woman smiled, raising an eyebrow to test her son. He said nothing.

"As you know, we have some more royal families coming over, _kotyonok_. They'll be here this evening-"

"What?"

"Yuri, you knew this. We've been telling you this ever since Otabek arrived, I was surprised you didn't come down to at least say hello. We have many lovely families here to congratulate you!"

The blonde froze.

" _Matushka_ -"

" _Pozhaluysta_."

" _Pozhaluysta, ne delayte mne!"_

_"Net."_

Yuri huffed, crossing his arms, _"_ _Ya sdelayu eto, no ya ne budu naslazhdat'sya etim."_

The woman beamed," _Spasibo_!"

Yuri rolled his eyes. Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

The minute he was downstairs he was bombarded by congratulations, and he almost wanted to scream. But he smiled politely, talking with the upper royals for a moment before moving from the banquet hall to the dining hall. There sat many of his childhood acquaintances, their older faces finally realizing he was here and Jean-Jacques Leroy was the first to speak up.

"The pretty bride has arrived! Give us a twirl!" He teased, laughing. The blonde scowled.

"Hello JJ."

The man beamed, standing up from his seat, everyone there murmuring in exasperation.

"I just got married to the prettiest woman in the world last year! I feel bad for Otabek because he has to settle for second best!" The Frenchman laughed out loud, his hands on his hips.

Yuri snorted as Seung-Gil, the Korean Imperial Family's only son, forced JJ to sit down with not so much as a batted eye. The blonde sat down at an open seat next to the Crispino twins. The brother had inherited the Italian family's fortunes, but the poor man was far too attached to his sister to take all the money. She still lived with her brother and parents, despite receiving many offers of her hand in marriage. Michele fought them off as adamantly as if they were a pack of rabid dogs, and he didn't hesitate to threaten the suitors with their lives. Soon after, Sara was the most ineligible bachelorette in Europe.

"Yuri, you look amazing! Are you excited for the wedding?" Sara pressed, beaming and clapping her hands together,"I've always wanted a wedding, they're so beautiful! Can I help with your hair?"

Yuri could sense Michele fuming at the mention of marriage, so he continued the topic.

"Yes, I'm very excited for the wedding. Although it was set up by my parents at birth, so it wasn't like I had much of a choice." The blonde murmured, eyeing Michele. He smirked,"I'm sure I could find someone you would be great with."

Michele snapped.

"How _DARE_ you try and set up _my_ sister with a man she hasn't met yet! I don't care if you're a woman, I'll-"

"Since she knows me, could _I_ marry her?" The Bohemian Prince, Emil Nekola, interjected with a wink.

" **NO**!" Michele roared and the table burst into fits of laughter, Sara pouting and shooting a glare at her brother. Yuri laughed lightly, almost wheezing a bit because of the corset, but he couldn't help it. It was always so fun to fuck with Michele.

"Michele, you can't keep her from us forever, you have to share." A voice cooed, the smooth voice of Christophe Giacometti interrupting. He was the eldest son of a Sovereign in the highest ranked Swiss Canton. Yuri hated his voice, he already decided. The last time he saw the guy, the Russian was five. He didn't remember it much, but now he definitely knows he hated him the first time he saw him.

He could sense PDA enter the room, a chill running up his spine.

" _Dobroe utro_ , everyone!" A voice called out, a familiar hand clapping over Yuri's shoulder. The blonde internally screamed, wanting to rip his hand off.

"Viktor, why haven't you introduced us to your adorable husband?" Chris pouted,"He's too cute to be ignored over there."

Yuri glanced over and saw Katsudon over in the corner, awkwardly shifting his feet. Yuri forgot, the Emperor didn't really have many royals over. Yuuri didn't know anyone.

"Yuuri~" Viktor purred,"These are my friends! Everyone, this is my beautiful _zvedza_."

Yuuri smiled awkwardly,"Hello everyone."

Yuri gagged. That guy was awful with people. The blonde knew, because the Japanese man was even worse than he was.

And then JJ had to talk.

"Wow, Viktor! Couldn't get yourself a bride, so you settled for a man? He's not half bad, but-"

Viktor turned to Yuri, pointing at the Frenchman with a furious expression,"Can you have him hanged?"

Yuri smirked,"Definitely."

That shut JJ up faster than you could say _noose_.

Everyone quickly settled down and reverted to normal conversation, Guang-Hong arriving with a package of sweets much to everyone's surprise and pleasure. He stated that Leo de la Iglesia couldn't come, he had family business in the Americas to attend to and wouldn't be able to come. Christophe was mildly intrigued about how he found that information out, and Guang-Hong was immediately reduced to a blushing mess before he confessed he was visiting the man before he had to leave for Yuri's ceremony. Yuri was glad Georgi wasn't even invited, due to his last mental breakdown at one of his family's galas over a girl rejecting him during the main event.

At that moment, Yuuri's face turned down.

"Where's Phitchit? And Otabek?"

Yuri froze. He swore, if anyone screwed with Otabek-

"Oh, he's talking to him in his guest room," Christophe mused,"Something about him being romantic? I didn't catch very much of the conversation."

The blonde stood up and walked quickly to Otabek's room, glancing in to see Phitchit sketching and Otabek reading some of his papers. Yuri furrowed his brow, what were they doing? He knocked and walked in, eyes meeting Phitchit's.

"What the hell are you doing? Yuuri wanted to know where you were."

The prince of the Thai kingdom beamed, holding up a sketch of Otabek,"Look! I'm bringing this back to Thailand so I can remember this whole thing! I'm gonna sketch everything during the ceremony! Is that okay? I want to capture every moment!"

The Thai man beamed, and the Russian couldn't find it in himself to tell him to stop sketching his future husband and their wedding. Yuri scoffed,"Whatever."

Phitchit grinned, handing him the paper,"You can have it! I already got you a wedding gift, but this is just a little extra! I can't wait to see you in that dress! Yuuri keeps gushing over how great you looked in it."

Otabek glanced up from his papers, and Yuri accidentally made eye contact with him. The blonde flushed and he glanced down at his dress, fists clenched around the fabric. The Kazakh's gaze stayed on Yuri, finally dropping back to the papers. The Thai prince smiled smugly, glancing between the pair.

"I'll leave the happy couple alone. Nice to see you again, Otabek." He said, leaving the room and closing the door behind the betrothed.

A familiar silence fell between them, Yuri pleasantly reveling in Beka's favorite past time. They met gazes, and the Kazakh let the corners of his mouth slip up into a smile. Yuri smiled right back.

"Talking with the others wasn't nearly as fun as being with you."

"I can imagine."

"They were annoying as fuck, Beka. You left me with them."

"I heard you yelling, you seemed fine."

Yuri huffed, scowling and sitting on the edge of Otabek's bed, adjacent to the desk he was working on.

"Well, I wasn't."

"Hm."

"Don't _hm_ me, Beka! Christophe was making sexual innuendos, I made _one_ joke and Michele lost his shit, and Victor wouldn't stop touching Yuri in places that should not be touched in public! Can we just have a wedding without a bunch of royal pains in the ass?"

"Yuri, we can't send them back."

"Don't tell me what to do." He grumbled.

"Yura, there seems to be a double standard."

Yuri rolled his eyes,"Whatever."

"You never fail to surprise me with your stubbornness, Yuri."

"Shut up, Beka. Let's go downstairs. You have to suffer with me."


	11. Learning the Basics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gets coached for the impending wedding, and he does some reflecting.  
> -  
> eto piz`dets: this is fucked up

Tomorrow was the wedding. Yuri woke up with a cold sweat, his hair plastered to his face as he peeled himself from the covers and stalked over to his bathroom. After relieving himself, he glanced outside the window, his eyes straining. It was still dark out, but due to the odd times of daybreak in winter, Yuri didn't really know what time it was. Deciding that it was too early to be awake, the blonde slipped back into bed.

He couldn't fall back asleep.

The boy huffed and slid out of bed, lighting a candle and walking over to his vanity and staring at himself in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair looked positively awful. He rubbed a hand over his face before sitting down on the chair in front of the piece of furniture, his gaze drifting to the loose piece of paper resting on it. The blonde picked it up, setting down his candle as a small smile slipped onto his face. It was the sketch Phitchit made.

In the photo, Otabek was looking over the papers regarding political affairs with countries, and how Kazakhstan would fit in with the alliances Russia had made after the two men married. His brows were furrowed in concentration, his fingers gripping the quill a little too harshly, but his eyes were soft. The blonde could almost believe the Kazakh _enjoyed_ writing back and forth with the old diplomats that his parents spoke so fondly of. He tugged on his earlobe, silently remembering that he would have to wear earrings for his wedding tomorrow, and grateful that the scars on his ears had not closed up lest he be given two extra holes on his wedding day.

The paper fluttered back onto the counter of the vanity, the Russian standing and straightening out his nightgown before grabbing a candle and wandering out of his room. The hallways were quiet, the soft sound of wind whistling against the windows creating an almost nostalgic atmosphere, dark shadows playing against the wall as the candle burned. For reasons unknown to him, Yuri ended up in front of Otabek's room. For reasons he did know, he knocked.

Shuffling could be heard behind the door, creaking echoing down the hall as the door opened, revealing Otabek. He was obviously not prepared for visitors, as his gaze was stoic and his shoulders stiff. It wasn't until he saw Yuri that his face softened a bit.

"Yura? What are you doing up this early?" The man questioned, his hand raising up to rub his bare chest. Yuri's eyes locked on the Kazakh's torso, gaze unashamedly scouring his body. The Russian couldn't believe it, the man was made of all muscle, his pecs and abdominal muscles screaming for him to touch them. A small trail of hair led down to the waistband of the man's sleep pants. He could feel his face getting hot.

"-seem sick. Yuri?"

The blonde snapped out of it, backing up and his eyes turning towards Otabek's,"I couldn't sleep."

"Okay. Would you like to come in?"

"Sorry, but- what?" The blonde froze for a moment before regaining his train of thought, pulling on a tough expression,"Of course I would like to come in. It's my castle, isn't it?"

Otabek just raised an eyebrow as the blonde walked in, setting down the candle and sitting on the edge of the man's slept in bed. The covers were all over the place and a pillow was haphazardly discarded on the floor, much to the Russian's hidden distaste. The Kazakh ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back as he sat next to the other boy.

"Any particular reason you can't sleep?" He questioned.

Yuri shook his head, curling his legs towards himself and resting his chin on his knees,"I don't know. I just didn't want to sit awake for however long it takes until Lilia and Yakov decide to annoy me with wedding etiquette classes."

Otabek hummed in response, the blonde continuing.

"I've been taking etiquette classes since I was born and now they decide I need a whole day to do it? It's ridiculous." The blonde said in exasperation, flopping backwards onto the mussed up covers,"I wanna escape and never take those lessons again, but I can't because then my mother would kill me! _Eto piz`dets_! This isn't a dictatorship?"

Otabek just laid back on the bed with him, his hands resting behind his head as they both stared absent-mindedly at the ceiling. The blonde sighed, glancing over at the Kazakh. It was obvious he was trying hard to stay awake, his eyes opening only briefly before closing in a very slow blink.

"I'm gonna go-"

"You can stay," Otabek spoke, his eyes swimming with sleeplessness,"If you need to get something off your chest, then do it. I'll listen."

The blonde's chest sank. He couldn't do that and keep him up. But if Otabek knew he was hiding something, then he'd get one of his gazes that just screamed disappointment. (Maybe it was an older person thing?) So he continued.

He didn't know at what point in the night he fell asleep, but he did fall asleep. Otabek was first of course, but the blonde followed soon after, drifting off during a story about Viktor being an ass. He didn't know at what point in the night he ended up kicking Otabek, but he did kick Otabek. He didn't know at what point in the night he ended up cuddling against Otabek's body, but he did scoot closer to the other man.

He didn't know at what point in the night he realized he might actually like this boy way more than friends, but when he woke up, it was something he just couldn't stop thinking about.

 

_"YURI! We let you sleep until nine in the morning! What are you, a sloth? Get up! You need to practice your walk!" Lilia barked, the blonde groaning in displeasure._

_"Why do I have to learn how to walk? I already know how!"_

_"Yes, but with the elegance of a two year old. You are not stepping foot outside this room until you look like you're floating on air!"_

Feltsman was no more easy than Lilia.

_"Yakov, why do I have to learn this again-"_

_"Because, Yuri! You must know everything about the diplomats you are speaking with. You have never once attended a political meeting, so I advise that you not act that way!"_

It was as if half the day went by in a blur of wedding traditions and history and dancing. All of this left Yuri extremely exhausted and wanting to go back to his room, the time just reaching six in the afternoon after a grueling day of lessons. But while trudging back to his room, his mother grabbed his arm, a smile on her face.

"Yuriko, you look like you need to relax! Would you like to join for a little spa afternoon? You can indulge, tomorrow is your wedding day, after all."

Yuri couldn't find it in himself to say no. So there he was, his feet soaking in warm water as a handmaiden massaged his calves, his eyes closed blissfully. This was nice, he had to admit. He had his back massaged, his nails painted, a clay mask put on, and a pleasant smelling oil smoothed into his skin. He felt amazing, much better than he had felt in a while. He wondered if Otabek would enjoy this.

" _Kotyonok_ , how are you feeling about the wedding?" His mother pressed, frowning slightly. He couldn't see the frown, but he could hear it. He shifted, sighing and opening his eyes.

"I'm feeling fine. What does it matter? We're getting married whether or not we want to." He grumbled, sighing.

His mother sighed in response, placing her hand gently on top of his hand,"This isn't easy for me, either. Seeing my only child being married off to some man? That's scary for me, Yura. Please understand that this wedding isn't to torture you, it's just to make alliances and aide the Kazakhs in their trade."

The blonde nodded, his eyes shutting. He was too tired to argue. Last night he had acquired the best sleep of his life, but it was too short for his liking. He woke up rejuvenated and then an hour later, he was exhausted. Maybe it was because of his crazy instructors. Yuri thought back on his morning and he couldn't help the smile that slipped onto his face.

_A gentle nudging on his arm was all it took for Yuri to groan, shifting in bed and curling up in the covers. The nudging ensued and the blonde grumbled, rolling to face whoever was waking him up. Rubbing his eyes, he finally took a good look and froze. It was Otabek, and he was holding a plate. A plate full of food. Why was he holding a plate full of food for him?_

_"I got you breakfast."_

_Yuri scrambled out from under the covers, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the plate from Otabek, who already looked dressed for the day. He smiled, looking up at the older man,"Thanks, Beka."_

_The Kazakh nodded and returned the small smile as he sat down at his desk, beginning to focus on his paperwork. The blonde picked up the fork, spearing a piece of meat and taking a bite. He observed the other man as he chewed, noticing the way he tapped his quill a couple times when he thought, or the way his shoulders tensed when he was writing quickly. The Russian continued to eat, his gaze falling to the plate of food his betrothed had provided him. Was this the way married couples acted? He could never see his father being so kind to his mother as to get her breakfast in bed._

_"Yura?" The man spoke up, the blonde looking up and meeting his gaze, swallowing the bit of food he had just eaten._

_"Yeah?"_

_"I convinced Lilia and Yakov to let you sleep in. I'd recommend getting ready before nine. It's around eight. You have etiquette lessons first, then history." Otabek murmurs, gaze falling back to the papers. Yuri scoffed, crossing his legs on the edge of the bed._

_"No way you convinced Lilia and Yakov. They're just as easily swayed as a brick wall." He grumbled, setting his plate down. Otabek stood up from his desk, picking up a piece of paper and walking around the furniture and handing it to Yuri. It was a scrawled note, reading 'Nine O'Clock sharp, Yuri. Not a second later'. The blonde glared up at the Kazakh._

_"It's just because they like you better. That's not fair."_

_"Maybe they like me better because I'm polite?"_

_Yuri smacked Otabek's arm, his eyes shooting daggers into the other,"Fuck you, I'm very polite."_

_Otabek just smiled,"Sure, Yura. Eat your breakfast."_

"You seem happy." His mother mused, smiling. The blonde grumbled, his eyes training on his freshly manicured nails. Would it hurt to say he was happy? Because he was. Nervous, but happy. He was glad he was marrying his best friend. (He was secretly glad his best friend was attractive). He was glad that his wedding would be a smooth transition from his normal life, and that he would be able to live in Moscow for as long as he wanted. (He was secretly glad that Otabek would be staying in Moscow as well, only visiting Kazakhstan for business). He was glad that his parents, although he hated it at first, arranged this marriage. He was glad that he had a friend like Otabek. He was glad that maybe there was an inkling of himself that liked Otabek more than friends, and that Otabek maybe liked him back.

All in all, Yuri was happy. Happier than he'd ever been in his life.

"Yeah," Yuri smiled, meeting his mother's gaze,"I am happy."

That night, Yuri slept well.

It didn't diminish the fact that for an hour straight, the blonde couldn't stop thinking about Otabek's bed.

For a reason unknown to him, that bed felt so much more welcoming.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Traditional Russian weddings are VERY long ordeals, so the ceremony will be very long and probably split into parts! Another fyi, this story WILL be continuing after they get married, involving their political affairs as King and Queen. 
> 
> There may be a war. Who knows. Depends on my mood ;)
> 
> Dasvidanya!


	12. The Wedding (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri questions himself, and the wedding.  
> -  
> výkup nevésty : Russian wedding tradition where the family steals the bride and holds her for "ransom", often forcing the groom to go through greuling tasks or pay out of pocket to get her. [literal translation: bride ransome ]

Yuri stared at the woman in the mirror, his eyes frozen on hers. He raised his hand, her hand following suit, and the boy inhaled sharply. He took a hesitant step towards the mirror, his fingers dusting across the surface and the woman mirrored the action. His eyes flickered to hers and noticed the familiar swirls of blue green, his pulse speeding as he let his hands drift down to his corseted waist. He looked like a woman fit to be queen.

Red satin flowed behind him in a gold embroidered train, his middle finger looped with gold thread sewn into the scarlets of the sleeves. Blonde hair curled over the sheer material of the shoulders, small braids twisting between the waves of platinum. Yuri's gaze fell to the golden earrings, gifted to him by his mother and placed by his grandfather.

The _výkup nevésty_ was cancelled after much pestering on Yuri's part, a hot rage filling his body every time he thought of Otabek being forced to do the whim of his family members in exchange for a fake bride. The blonde wondered what Otabek would do if he was being kidnapped. Would Otabek save him? Or would he let Yuri go? Would Otabek actually want Yuri if he was a woman instead?  
Two knocks sounded outside the door, and Yuri's focus broke from the mirror.

"Come in."

His grandfather stepped inside, a wry smile on his face. "It's time."

The blonde stood at the entrance of the church where the blessing of the betrothal was to occur, waiting for Otabek as he stood by the priest. A carriage rolled up, creating track marks in the sodden snow as the horses whinnied impatiently. The door opened, and out stepped Otabek. Yuri's breath caught in his throat.

He was wearing traditional Kazakh wedding attire, his blue jacket embroidered with the swirling navy patterns of Kazakhstan's typical fashion. He looked like a real prince. Their eyes met and Otabek froze, his eyes widening slightly before he looked down at the stairs he began to ascend to the church. He stood beside Yuri, eyes flitting about the exterior of the church as if it would open under his gaze. The blonde swallowed nervously, heart pounding out of his chest.

  
"Davai."

Yuri's head snapped to look at Otabek, who was gazing down at the other man with a soft expression. The blonde nodded, looking towards the ground.

"Davai."

The priest hands each of them a lit candle, praying over them quietly as the rustling of trees and the sound of wind invades the ears of the betrothed. Their eyes meet and Otabek's eyes shine with a pleasant glint, causing Yuri's heart to stutter as his curls brush the sides of his face with the breeze.

The blessing is finished and the candles remain lit, the doors to the church opened. The church held massive ceilings, stained glass windows projecting different colored shadows upon the assembly of people. Yuri tears his gaze away from Otabek as they are led down the aisle, his family and the other royals witness to the matrimony as they stand silently. The blonde's footfalls feel like lead, his hand shaking slightly around the candle. Didn't he want this? Didn't he want to create this alliance? Didn't he?

The blonde gripped his candle tighter. Of course he wanted this. It was for his country, his grandfather, and especially for his best friend. Otabek's country needed this too, and he'd be damned if he didn't go through with this ceremony.

Standing at the front of the church, Yuri felt like he was on fire and every pair of eyes was setting another stick in the flame. However, Otabek's calm demeanor radiated onto Yuri, the blonde slowly relaxing.

The priest finishes the blessing, praying over the pair and taking the candles. 

Would Otabek have a woman on the side that he would meet? Yuri swallowed painfully. Of course Otabek would have someone there. A man can't fufill what a woman can do.

They step aside, a scarlet cloth draped over the steps of the church stage. Otabek and Yuri are ushered closer, their eyes locked on each others without so much as a word. Their silent messages are conveyed perfectly, their gazes meaningful as their close family members retrieve the crowns of the Russian royal family.

This was for their countries, and for their families.

The close family members and friends are to hold the crowns on the heads of betrothed, Yuri remembers from his lesson. His parents and his grandfather hold the crown for a moment before placing it on the blonde curls adorning Yuri's head. His grandfather and mother had subtle tear tracks down their faces, but Otabek's parents stood stoic as they placed the crown upon their son's head. The family members sit down.

The priest finishes another prayer, Otabek and Yuri intertwining their hands as the time draws nearer.

It was so easy to forget that there was a kiss during the reception. It was as easy as swallowing a knife. How was he supposed to face his friend after kissing him? How?

"... and we bring these two people, and two countries, together in holy matrimony."

Yuri and Otabek recite vows flawlessly, their gaze never leaving each other. How could it, when the only thing to focus on was each other?

They drink wine from the blessed goblet, passing it from one to another. Golden rings shone against the light of the church, the blonde swallowing. This was it.

A cold ring was slipped onto Yuri's right ring finger, the action swiftly returned as he slipped the other ring on the Kazakh. Otabek was shaking, Yuri noted. Otabek was nervous? Of course he was, doing this to save his country from being attacked. It would make anyone feel antsy.

Seeing that matching ring on Otabek's hand shot a hole through Yuri's chest, his pulse doing a flip. Otabek was his, and he was Otabek's.

A sash was wrapped around their hands, a simple prayer said and the cloth removed.

As they walk back down the aisle, newly married, Yuri can't help but feel out of place. Otabek nudges the other man, meeting his eyes.

"Yura."

"Hm?"

"Stop worrying."

 

* * *

The reception was beautiful. Only the finest material was used for the curtains and tablecloths of the castle's banquet hall, the best silver out on the tables for the guests. Yuri was only thankful they had decided to get rid of the idea of a professional painter to create a portrait of the pair.

Sitting at the head of the table with his _husband_ made Yuri flush lightly, drinks being ordered by the dozen for the guests and the food almost devoured before five minutes had passed.

The time for the toast had arrived. Victor stood up, tapping his crystal glass before smiling.

"A toast. To Yuriko, the most beautiful woman in the room."

Yuri scoffed.

"I've known you since you were born. You've never been one to follow directions or one to take orders. You're headstrong, capable, and someone I consider family. Even though you sometimes hate me, Yurio, you're the best family I could have asked for. You were there for me in your own sort of way when I needed a friend. You helped me realize that I needed to express what I wanted before I got it. Yurio, you are amazing. Otabek, take care of Yuri. H- She's one of a kind."

Yuri flushes, eyes stinging. He sneers, wiping his eyes,"Shut up, old man, and just finish the toast already."

The group laughs, Victor chuckling as he continues,"Alright. Here's to many years of love, for many years of tolerance for Otabek, and many years of patience for Yuri. Cheers!"

Everyone downs a shot, Yuri drinking his own with a grimace before he realizes. He has to kiss Otabek.

The chants start before Yuri can compose himself.

_GORKO, GORKO, GORKO_

Yuri meets Otabek's gaze, eyes wide. He licks his lips awkwardly, gaze flitting down to the small smile the Kazakh sported.

Everything was a blur.

Soft lips were on his and he squeaked, frozen before melting into the soft kiss that belonged to Otabek. He was kissing Otabek. Otabek was kissing him.

And then it was over.

Everything was over. Yuri stood alone, standing in the middle of the bare banquet hall with his fingers on his lips.

Otabek had kissed him. He was married to Otabek. He didn't know whether or not he was okay.

Yuri walked up to his room after the long day, the shadows of the moon playing against the wooden floors of the castle. He opened the door, finding pieces upon pieces of paper.

The blonde picked up the papers, a smile on his face as he looked through them. Phitchit's drawings.

_Yuri smiling as Otabek puts the ring on his finger._

_Otabek holding hands with Yuri._

_The kiss among shots of vodka._

Yuri flipped to the next one, freezing. It was of Otabek smiling gently, his eyes shining as he talked with Yuri. He had a drink in his hand and a small smile on his face.

The blonde glanced down at his hand, brushing over the gold of the ring. What was he doing?

Yuri sighed, eyes flitting about the hallway before he shut himself in his room.

Yuri fell asleep thinking about the kiss, and about how empty his bed felt with the knowledge that Otabek could have slept with him.

They were married, after all. But somehow, Yuri couldn't blame him.

So Yuri fell asleep his first night of being married, alone and stuck with his thoughts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ONLY PART ONE PLEASE LET ME KNOW FEEDBACK


	13. The Wedding (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek wants to remind Yuri of his promises.  
> -  
> Matushka: mother (pet name, like mom)  
> Paten'ka: father (pet name, like dad)  
> Po'shyol 'na hui: fuck you/fuck off (rude!!)

Weddings were always born of the sacred union of two people, a ceremony to proclaim the love between them and to legally and spiritually bind their souls together. The red symbolizing love, the gold rings symbolizing their eternal promise, the sash representing trust, and the candles representing the relationship that continues to burn on. Weddings were always meant to be pure and without fault. However, Otabek felt like something was missing.

Moonlight streamed into the Kazakh's guest room, shining over his face as he lie awake and unmoving. He couldn't shake the feeling that Yuri was upset, that Yuri needed someone. Otabek didn't know if the blonde wanted that someone to be him, but he wanted to give it a shot.

* * *

 

A harsh nudge to Yuri's shoulder woke him with a start, a groan escaping his lips as he rubbed his face, wincing at the light.

"What the..."

"Yurio! Get dressed!"

The blonde's eyes snapped open, scowling as he made out the faces of Yuuri and Viktor.

"Get the fuck out of my room! How did you get in here anyway?!"

"The sketches you have are amazing? Did Phitchit do these?"

"Yurio! Otabek won't tell us what he has planned and I'm curious, can you tell us instead?"

"What plan? I don't know what the fuck you're talking abou-"

Yuri froze, flushing. Was Beka planning a surprise for him? He scowled, shoving Viktor and Yuuri out of his room,"AND STAY OUT!"

The Russian sighed, rubbing his face and locking the door. He walked over to his vanity, glancing, horrified, at his reflection in the mirror. He hadn't taken off his makeup before he went to bed, and he looked like a fantastic raccoon. He quickly washed up and slipped on comfortable clothes, skipping the corset.

Skipping down the stairs, he caught sight of Otabek talking wit his parents, the Russian King and Queen, in a very hushed manner. Despite this, it seemed to be a very pressing subject. Otabek looked a bit strained, and Yuri frowned. Were his parents asking him to do something he didn't want to do?

Yuri walked down the stairs, eyeing his parents," _Matushka. Paten'ka._ "

The woman smiled happily, waving. His father nodded, gesturing towards the dining hall in a silent command: eat.

"Beka." Yuri added quickly, ducking his head as he quickly grabbed a plate of assorted fruits, snacking on them and peering at the trio from behind the door of the dining hall into the banquet hall. They continued to talk.

Yuri grew bored with this, huffing and setting his plate down. What was he supposed to do, wait all day for them to finish arguing about who knows what?

* * *

 

"May I have your permission to accompany Yuriko in a small hunting expedition? You have my word that we will only focus on small game."

Queen Milena frowned,"Prince Otabek, you know the traditions in Russia, don't you? You know just how controversial this topic is-"

"Please." Otabek spoke, bowing slightly,"I know it would make Yuri very happy to hunt, even for a small amount of time. Perhaps he would let the topic go if he didn't see it as exciting as he thought he would?"

The Queen thought for a moment before shaking her head,"No. Once Yuriko gets a taste of what he wants, he never lets go. I can't allow him that, I'm sorry. Maybe after I have passed on. But until then, my answer sticks."

Otabek kneeled, bowing his head,"Thank you for the consideration, my queen. I will take my leave."

* * *

 

"Yuri." Otabek hummed.

The blonde grumbled, curling up in a blanket,"You've been avoiding me all day, talking to my parents. Calling off the marriage so soon?"

"Yura that's ridiculous."

"How?!" Yuri growled, sitting up in bed and huffing.

"You're-" Yuri made a wild hand gesture,"You're everything that a prince should be and more. I'm a shitty excuse for a princess if you ask me." The blonde snapped, sliding out of bed.

"You can walk around however you like and people fawn over you like you're a diamond. Me? I slip up once and everyone _loses their shit._ I have to spend every waking moment working my ass off to be someone I'm not and you waltz in here like some fucking god, and marry me! That's ridiculous!"

Otabek opens his mouth to speak, but Yuri holds up a hand, growling,"Don't. You and your stupid ability to do everything perfect pisses me off. This just comes naturally to you, doesn't it? Being strong and stoic and handsome? Because fuck you. Fuck you and the fact that you don't have to try!"

Yuri exhaled, his face flushed as he scowled. Otabek just stood there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. A moment of silence passes, the labored breathing of a disgrunted Yuri the only sound in the room.

"I want to try for you."

The blonde froze, blue eyes meeting the calm brown eyes of the man in front of him.

"Yuri, we got married. I don't intend on ever breaking the promises we made to each other, no matter how much you think I plan on doing so."

The Russian shrunk back slightly, gripping the edge of his dress with a frown on his face.

"You don't have to stay loyal to me, Beka. We're both guys. You weren't exactly filled in that I wasn't the perfect wife material before you came here. You're my best friend, and I don't care. Just do whatever you wa-"

"I want to stay loyal to you. I want to be your husband, and I intend on keeping every promise I made." Otabek murmurs, the blonde flushing.

Yuri could feel his chest flutter happily, a small smile on his face. He was his best friend, but somehow this declaration felt more intimate than a friends' comittment.

"Beka, I-"

"Yuri. I'm honored to be your husband." His hand reaches up and tucks a stray curl from the boy's face, a pleasant glint in the eye of the Kazakh.

"Beka," Yuri sputtered, flushing and antsy under his gaze,"Beka you know you don't have to be my husband. There are other Russian royal families-"

"Yuri."

"Yes?"

"I wanted to marry you. There's no better way I could have envisioned my marriage than with my best friend." He murmured, his hand falling to his side.

Yuri blushed bright red, punching the other man's shoulder,"How come you say such dumb stuff? Stop it! How come you're not the wife in this relationship?"

"You should be glad your mother didn't hear that." The Kazakh hummed.

" _Po'shyol 'na hui_!"

Otabek just laughed.

That night they fell asleep in Yuri's room, both men passing out unintentionally on opposite sides of the bed.

Otabek was the only one out of the pair that was conscious enough to hear the frantic quill scratches of Phitchit, obviously sketching something extremely important.

Silence often was the best company when it came to Yuri and Otabek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE STORY WILL CONTINUE, I REPEAT, THIS STORY WILL CONTINUE ON AND TALK ABOUT THEIR POLITICAL AFFAIRS (and also, how Russia will react to Yuri being a man...!!)
> 
> Stay tuned! ;)


	14. Books Are Key To Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change isn't what they needed.

"Mhm."

  
"Yuri."

  
"Mhm."

  
"Yura you need to get up, it's almost lunch time."

  
"Fuck that. You're comfy and I'm tired."

  
The blonde shifted, curling up next to the other man then proceeding to try and fall back asleep. The Kazakh sighed, laying there and glancing down at the man latching onto him. A small smile slipped onto his face, his eyes closing. Yuri adjusted his grip on Otabek's bicep, pulling it closer to his chest as he murmured a quick thank you. He quickly fell asleep, blonde hair splayed across his chest as he slept.

  
 Otabek woke with the sun drifting just below the horizon, his brows furrowing. Had he really slept that long? His gaze fell to the man on his right and his breath caught in his throat.

  
 White sheets were crumpled in the Russian's loose grip, blonde lashes drifting across the cheekbones and content features of his wife.

  
Otabek tried not to wake him as he slipped out from under the covers, rubbing the back of his neck as he padded over to the vanity. He glanced at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair before he noticed a piece of parchment. His eyes narrowed as he picked it up, a drawing coming into focus. 

  
The man smiled, observing the photo. It was Yuri and himself, laying on opposite sides of the bed, their hands barely touching as they lie asleep. The Kazakh's lips turned up in a small smile, setting the paper down on the counter of the vanity.

The sound of a whine caught his attention.

"Beka."

Otabek turned around, glancing at Yuri who had spread out like a starfish on the bed, gripping both pillows as he grumbled.

"Beka, what time is it?"

The Kazakh hummed in respose,"Probably a little after dinnertime."

The blonde huffed, curling into a fluffy ball of covers that he burrowed in. A muffled voice sounded from the mass,"Get me food."

Food was delivered within the hour, Yuri digging in and happily shoving things onto Otabek's plate. The Kazakh and the Russian share a meal, quiet talks and soft laughter echoing through the halls of the castle. The pair slip back into bed around five in the morning, exhausted and satisfied from the dinner meal.

Small smiles and small talk repeated themselves the next morning when they shared a breakfast, Otabek and Yuri too shy to talk about the pleasant feeling spreading in both of their chests.

* * *

"You seem to be warming up to him." Otabek's mother mused, the wet smushing of melting show under the Kazakh family's feet as they walked through the marketplace. The bustling noise of the town was a pleasant contrast to the quiet atmosphere of the castle. Her son nodded.

"He's my best friend."

"You seem very close with him." His father stated, staring ahead as they walked. The statement startled Otabek for a moment. Why wouldn't he be? His best friend, who was also his wife, was close to him. Was that a problem?

"Mother, father-"

"We've been thinking."

Otabek stopped walking, eyes narrowed,"About what?"

They shifted uncomfortably, his mother avoiding eye contact as his father sighed. A hollow feeling spread through his chest as he waited, his eyes glancing between the pair.

"About you living in Moscow. We're sure your sisters miss you. We're going to be traveling back tomorrow night, and we want you to think about coming back with us. Kazakhstan needs you, Otabek. We need you." His mother murmurs, frowning.

"What if something happens to us?" His father interrupted,"It takes weeks of traveling just to get back home, and you're the only one who knows how to keep the peace. We taught you everything we know."

"I promised." Otabek stated,"I promised Yuri that I would stay."

"You can always have a long-distance marriage-"

"I don't break my promises." Their son spoke coldly,"I'm going to go back to the castle. Please write."

And with that, the man walked home alone, his parents standing dumbstruck in the snow as their son disobeyed them for the first time.

* * *

  
"Beka."

"Hm?"

"What would you say if I cut my hair?"

The Kazakh thought for a moment.  
"I'm not sure. What would you want me to say?"

The blonde huffed, fiddling with the end of his braid as the pair sat on the balcony, blankets on the ground as they talked. His blue eyes flickered to Otabek's, shrugging.

"I was just thinking of cutting it. Maybe mailing the braid to Viktor, he'd be horrified. He used to have long hair before his dad cut it all off in an angry fit of rage. Viktor complained to me for a week before he decided he liked his hair shorter anyway."

Otabek hummed,"That must have been a sight."

The blonde laughed,"Oh it was. He would cry every time he reached up to dramatically throw it over his shoulder."

They both laughed lightly, imagining the scene. Yuri smiled, his eyes drifting over to Otabek, who was sealing his letters in wax. It was therapeutic, watching the other man drip the wax and then stamp it with the Kazakh's family crest.

Dark eyes met his, and the blonde flushed, murmuring a quick 'sorry'. Otabek's lips quirked up slightly before he went back to work. Yuri grumbled. He wanted attention.

"Beka, get those done with! I'm fucking bored!"

"Yuri-"

A loud bang startled Yuri and his grandfather ran in, face red and his feet still covered in snow. Yuri's eyes widened, his heart stopping.

"Grandpa?"

"Get your essentials and go! There's no time!"

"Grand-"

"YURI!" He bellowed, his face contorting in distress," _Your life is in danger, act like it!_ "

The blonde scrambled off of his bed, throwing a couple dresses and a coat into a bag before he turned towards the Kazakh, eyes hard,"Beka, you need to go."

"I'm coming with."

"No you're not."

" _Yes I am_ -"

"We don't have time to argue this! Yuri, go!"

Yuri nodded quickly and tossed in the necklace his mother gave him for his birthday, an extra pair of boots, and a hat. His gaze stopped over his vanity, glancing at the drawings. He swallowed, freezing, before picking them up and carefully stowing them away in his bag.

Otabek was ready at the door to the bedroom, already holding his own bag. Yuri ran out of his room, tugging Otabek with him as they sprinted through the hallways of the castle. Loud bangs could be heard outside the door, shouting and screaming echoing through the banquet halls. The sounds of swords clashing echoed in the halls.

_"Yuratchka, this passage is for emergencies only."_

_The little Yuri hummed in disappointment,"But I want to play in it."_

_His grandfather smiled,"I know. But hopefully you will never have to use it."_

Yuri ran into the library, scanning the books before he found the one. He quickly opened it, revealing a cut out portion with a key. His hands shook as he took the key out and placed the book back, going towards the small mirror opposite the shelves. He shifted it to the side, revealing a keyhole.

He inserted the key, a portion of the wall clicking. He pushed, a door sized entry way created. His eyes flickered back to Otabek, who held himself calmly. The Russian offered a small smile as he placed the key back in its spot.

"Come on. Our parents will be here soon. My grandpa is probably getting them now."

Otabek nodded and grabbed a candle, following Yuri into the dark passageway and closing the door behind them. His hands wandered the wall for a torch, quickly grasping the handle before lighting it. It flickered to life, orange shadows dancing across their faces as they quickly walked down the passage.

The echoes of their feet against the stone reverberated through the tunnel. They said nothing, for what was to be said? Their lives weren't guaranteed.

* * *

 

Blood pooled at the entrance to the castle, several bodies lying at the feet of the soldiers and knights that had stormed the royal home. Loud boots clicked slowly in the banquet hall, a smirk slipping onto the face of the man behind the attack.

Jean-Jacques sat at the head of the table, smiling smugly as the few surviving handmaidens trembled, kneeling on the ground.

"Looks like I'm king now. King JJ. Has a nice ring to it."

The limp bodies of the King and Queen of Moscow laid on the floor of the banquet hall, eyes empty and skin pale.

_"Now find the lovebirds."_


	15. Don't Kill the Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri learns the bad news.  
> -  
> ty che, blyad?: what the fuck?

Yuri panted as they ran through the damp corridor, the echoing of footsteps and their breath the only thing resonating. They finally reached the end of the tunnel, finding a ladder that led right up to a wooden cover.

Otabek gestured for Yuri to go first, the blonde nodding and climbing the ladder. He unlatched the door with one hand and peeked out from underneath, seeing the inside of a small cottage. The blonde frowned and opened the hatch all the way.

The tunnel was, supposedly, built underneath this cottage. Inside was a quaint dual living room and kitchen about the size of Yuri's closet. He dragged himself out of the tunnel and sat on the ledge, gathering up his dress before scooting so his entire body was out. Otabek quickly joined him, closing the hatch and latching it shut.

They both sat there and breathed, pulses rapid as they stared at each other.

The reality of the situation came crashing down on Yuri, his eyes wide.

"Who attacked us, and _why_?"

Otabek didn't say anything, just stood up and glanced out of the window. Surrounding the small cottage was woods, the quietness of it all becoming increasingly discomforting. Snow piled up on the ground around the cottage, but what was most interesting was that there were footsteps along a path leading away from the cottage.

Both to and from.

Someone lived here.

"Yuri, we need to keep moving. I don't think that this place-"

"YURI!"

Yuri screamed and grabbed Otabek, squeezing him and trying to pull him out of the door,"IT'S THAT HAG!"

Mila pouted and put her hands on her hips,"Don't be rude, Yuri! Didn't your parents tell you that I lived here?"

Yuri contorted his face in confusion,"Why on earth would they-"

"I live with Yakov! This is his place."

Yuri gaped, eyes wide.

" _Ty che, blyad?_ "

Mila laughed,"I'm guessing you didn't know that. He's been taking care of me for about a decade since my parents died. The royal family in the east? My full title is Princess Mila Babicheva. I just turned eighteen, so I'm working for Yakov "

She stuck her tongue out and Yuri gaped,"You- You're not- Wait, hold the fuck up. You said you worked for your parents or your dad, or whatever!"

Mila winked,"If I said I worked for Yakov, I would blow my cover, wouldn't I?"

Yuri fumed,"So why the hell are here? With Yakov."

The redhead smiled sadly, sitting down on a chair opposite a rather sketchy-looking couch,"Yakov owed my father his life. So when my parents were assassinated and Yakov found out, he figured the only way to repay him was to make sure I was safe and alive by keeping me under his care."

Yuri blinked, stunned,"Oh."

"But Otabek already knew all of that!"

The blonde's eyes narrowed and he shot a look at Otabek,"Excuse me?"

Otabek shrugged,"It never came up."

"And you didn't think to bring up that, hey, _your mentor's hosting a commoner that we're both familiar with in his house?_ " Yuri seethed.

Mila's eyes widened, her gaze darting between the two,"Are you two always like this? I'd be surprised if your marriage lasts for two weeks."

The Russian man growled,"Don't."

The floor banged twice and Mila grinned,"Ooh! Yakov is here!"

She quickly unlatched the hatch and Yakov and Lilia crawled out, the woman brushing herself off in disgust,"I hate damp places."

Yakov grumbled, cracking his back and sitting down on the stairs to the upper level,"Are you kids okay? Nikolai is right behind us with the Altins."

The boys and Mila nodded, glancing between them. Blood was on Yakov's hands, staining the underneath of his fingers and the knees of his pants. Yuri swallowed, paling.

Two swift knocks sounded on the hatch and it swung open, the Altins clambering out and Nikolai struggling to pull himself out, Yakov helping him with a grunt. Yuri's grandfather latched the door, heaving as he laid on the ground. He was covered in it. Blood.

Yakov immediately started applying pressure to Nikolai's wounds as the Altins quickly checked Otabek for any injuries. The blonde rushed over towards his grandfather, gripping his hand with white knuckles.

The blood rushing through Yuri's ears was deafening. Where were his parents? Where was his mother?

Nikolai groaned,"Yuri, please-" The blonde's heart stopped.

"Yuri, your parents, they-"

He couldn't listen to this. Tears welled up in his eyes, his throat closing up. The world blurred, bile threatening to rise up his throat.

_"Your parents wanted you to know that they love you."_

Yuri choked back a sob, glaring at his grandfather,"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Grandpa!"

The older man smiled wryly as Yakov applied bandages to the wounds,"Yuri, their last wishes were for you to be safe. Please, don't do anything rash-"

"WHO DID THIS?" Yuri screamed, hot tears streaming down his face, his throat raw.

The older man winced,"Yura, the important thing is that you're safe-"

" _Bullshit!_ My parents are dead!" Yuri sobbed, angrily wiping away tears. Nikolai sighed, closing his eyes.

"Jean-Jacques Leroy."

Yuri should have felt betrayed. Surprised, even. The only thing he felt was an empty feeling in his chest as he sat, eyes dripping with tears.

That French bastard. The blonde scowled, clutching his dress. He wanted him dead. _He needed to pay for what he did._

The moment Yuri got his hands around that prick's throat he would strangle him instantly. His parents were dead. His parents were _dead_.

Yuri choked back a cry, sniffling and wiping his face hurriedly,"Grandpa, I'm- I don't-"

"I know, Yura." The man replied softly,"I know."

The blonde whimpered.

"I'm so scared."

* * *

 

Otabek and Yuri sat in silence in Mila's room, the blonde's eyes red-rimmed and his hands trembling. Nikolai had just barely pulled through, the sword slash shallow but nicking a major artery. The man was safe, but needed recovery.

Yuri sniffled, wiping his face,"I'm sorry, I- This isn't-"

"Yura," Otabek whispered, his eyes dark,"It's okay to cry. Your parents are dead. You can mourn."

The blonde's throat felt tight as his eyes ached, fresh tears spilling,"Beka, I want to go home." He choked out.

The Kazakh slowly stood up and sat next to Yuri, pulling him into a hug. They sat there in silence, Yuri crying into Otabek's chest.

"I know, Yura. We just need patience."


	16. Free At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Otabek escape, a single swipe of a knife enough to eliminate the remnants of a past life.

Yuri couldn't do this. He couldn't leave Russia. He was _the queen_ and now he had to leave his city and his country in the hands of the french fuck named Jean-Jacques Leroy. Absolutely not.

But despite his adamance, the crippling ache in his chest weighed him down and he couldn't find the energy to protest his grandfather's instructions. He was compliant, no matter how difficult it was to feel his chest constrict further with every mile he remembered he'd have to travel to get out of his country.

"Yura." Otabek murmured, offering a hand to the younger boy. The blonde looked up from his porrige, his spoon clinking on the edge of the ceramic bowl as his grip faltered. He barely slept last night, his whole body drained. He was even wearing old clothes of Mila's, making him look as bad as he felt.

Yuri took the hand, standing himself up as the pair walked outside to the waiting horse. It was packed with minimal items, but plenty of gold for the travel. Mila was gently brushing the mane of the animal, smiling to herself. The blonde's gaze fell, his eyes trained on the trodden-on snow. He didn't want to go.

The absence of Otabek's presence made him look up, seeing the Kazakh mounting himself on the horse. The blonde flushed. He looked like he belonged on the horse, he looked like a proper soldier.

Yuri struggled to get onto the horse, his face paling. How was he going to hold onto this thing? He-

"Hold onto my waist."

A firm grip moved Yuri's hands around Otabek's middle, a flush appearing on his face as he attempted to jerk away.

"Beka, I'm-"

The man shot a look back, mouth pressed into a line,"Yuri, if you don't hold on, you're going to fall off. Trust me."

The blonde grumbled, his hands slipping around Otabek's waist loosely. His heart fluttered.

"Let's go."

Yuri waved goodbye, the horse accelerating into a sprint. His grip tightened, his cheek resting on Otabek's back. He quickly drifted off, the steady movement of the horse and the presence of the Kazakh enough to lull him into a deep slumber.

* * *

 

Yuri's eyes fluttered open, his back pressed against something firm. He blinked a couple times, rubbing his eyes before realizing - he was on a horse.

The blonde jerked, turning to meet the gaze of Otabek. The blonde stuttered, fumbling for a grip on the saddle.

"I fell asleep-"

The man hummed,"I decided it would be safer for you to be in front. Don't want you falling off."

Yuri grumbled,"You could have just woken me up."

"You need the sleep. Now rest. We're almost at the inn where we'll be staying for a night."

The blonde hesitated, shifting so that he was facing forward. The sun was setting, reds and oranges painting the sky and making colorful shadows dance across the ground. His eyes drooped, the wooded path fading from his vision as he fell asleep, leaning back towards the welcoming chest of the Kazakh.

A dreamless sleep welcomed him, his muscles relaxing as he melted into the strong arms of Otabek Altin.

* * *

 

"Yura, we're here."

"Yura."

"Five more minutes," Yuri moaned, batting the man's chest as he shifted to become more comfortable. A low rumble of a laugh emitted from the man's chest, Yuri's eyes snapping open in surprise.

His eyes found a small smile playing on Otabek's lips, and he couldn't help but freeze in shock.

"Yuri, we're at the inn."

The blonde's gaze drifted around to see a tavern looking building, the paint peelin and the sign written in distorted cursive.

"The Ice Castle? That's misleading." Yuri huffed,"Looks more like a shitty inn."

Otabek said nothing, just slipped off of the horse and offered a hand to the blonde. Yuri grumbled a bit before taking the hand, hopping off of the large creature with a wince. He adjusted his hair as Otabek led the horse to what looked like stables, the setting sun casting a warm glow on the building. The soft sound of rustling trees brought him back to earth, his gaze flitting around the mess of a building. His nose wrinkled. He hoped there weren't any bed bugs.

"Ready?" Otabek asked, horse gone and a small smile on his face. Yuri nodded, his eyes falling on the building. The dull ache in his chest was still there, his throat closing up as he swallowed painfully. _This wasn't home._

They walked inside, Otabek's boots loud against the hard wood floors. It was empty save for an older man asleep at the counter, a fire crackling in the fireplace. Otabek frowned, prodding the man gently.

"Excuse me, I-"

The old man jolted, snapping up,"So sorry!" He sputtered,"Would you like a room?"

Yuri winced. God, this guy was a mess. Otabek calmly asked for a room for the night, slipping him a gold coin and recieving a key to the room. The old man apologized profusely, the Kazakh once again waving him off. Yuri and Otabek quickly walked to their room, unlocking the door and stepping in. The older man shed their luggage onto a chair, taking off his coat.

Yuri cautiously stepped towards the window of the room, glancing outside. The reds and oranges of the afternoon had slowly shifted to the pinks and purples of the evening, the untouched snow sparkling over the ground. He gripped his dress, tears prickling at his eyes.

"Why the hell did it have to be me?" Yuri growled, his voice wavering as he turned around to face Otabek. The other man was silent, his brown eyes meeting the blue of Yuri's.

" _Why?_ " Yuri choked out, his hands trembling as he scowled and wiped away tears,"My parents are dead and it's all my fault. I could have distracted JJ and had them leave earlier, and grandpa almost died because he was protecting your parents who were here to meet me, and- I'm just so _fucking dumb!_ " His voice cracked, his eyes red and his fists clenched tightly.

Otabek walked up to Yuri, hands gently wrappping around fists. The blonde's anger dissipated, leaving tears in it's wake. The Kazakh brushed the tears away, frowning.

"You're not at fault for this. Jean-Jacques has a mind of his own and it is in no way your fault that your parents are dead. Yuri, the king and queen would have wanted you to be alive."

Yuri choked back a sob, sneering through tears,"I- I'm not even a girl. They wanted a girl and so I had to pretend to be one just because they felt obligated to keep me. I'm not important, I'm a disgrace. And now they're dead."

Yuri fell into a warm embrace, eyes watering as he slipped his arms around Otabek's middle.

"It doesn't matter if you're a girl or not." Otabek murmured,"People still love you even though they know the truth. Now _you_ need to love you for yourself."

Yuri gripped the back of Otabek's shirt, his eyes squeezing shut. He could do that. He could love himself for himself. No matter what gender.

Yuri quickly pulled away from Otabek and ran to their luggage, rummaging through it with a fierce look in his eye. He quickly pulled out a knife, holding it up. He whipped around, eyes hard as he stared Otabek down.

He gripped the base of the braid that fell down his back, and in one final swipe, the hair fell to the ground.

Silence fell over the room, Beka's eyes wide, but curious.

Yuri picked up the braid, his now shoulder-length hair slipping over his face. He gripped the hair, jaw set.

He cracked a smile, looking up at Otabek,"You think I should mail it to Viktor?"

Otabek's lips turned up playfully,"Spare him the heart attack, Yura."

Yuri laughed, a smile on his face as he tossed the braid away.

He soon realized how relaxed his shoulders were, how easily a smile broke out on his face. His chest felt light, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was what freedom felt like. Self-expression.

Yuri and Otabek fell asleep together in the small inn bed, their legs brushing as they slept. The blonde had a smile on his face, and his hand loosely gripping the ends of his new hair.

Twenty miles away, JJ's troops start to search Moscow for the missing princess and her betrothed.


	17. Snowflake's Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are revealed.  
> -  
> (A CHAPTER ONE DAY AFTER ANOTHER, I FEEL SO ACCOMPLISHED)

The pair wake up early to start traveling, their luggage quickly packed away on the horse as they start riding towards the next city over. Now that they had to stay hidden, news of JJ was much harder to come by. Otabek had to keep his hood up at all times, and Yuri had bought new clothes that were for men. Anyone who didn't look closely wouldn't know that they were royals, despite their strong presence.

Now they sat in a pub, fifty miles from Moscow, picking at their food silently as the chatter and bustle of the building shifted to a pleasant background noise. Clinking of dishes and loud, hearty laughs could be heard, Yuri shrinking into himself as he looked around. Otabek studied the boy curiously. Of course he wouldn't feel comfortable in a place like this, he was a princess. He wasn't raised to need to be in places like this.

Yuri glanced up at the Kazakh and met his gaze, huffing and glaring back down at his food with a flush creeping up his neck. Otabek smiled, taking a quick bite of his food. At least he was still comfortable enough to glare.

A voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Hello!"

Otabek glanced up from his plate, meeting the gaze of two girls. What did they want? Did they recognize him?

"Yes?" Otabek spoke, glancing over at Yuri. The blonde said nothing, silently stabbing the meat on his plate. The Kazakh's face twinged with worry for a moment. Was Yuri upset? His gaze fell back to the girls, who were smiling.

"We were wondering if you two wanted to come with us to the festival! Our town is holding a Spring celebration, and there will be lots of food and dance. We just needed partners to dance with."

The girls smiled expectantly, and Otabek could hear Yuri grumbling to himself. The Kazakh shook his head,"I apologize, but we've got other plans tonight. Thank you for the offer, maybe another time."

The two girls frowned, but nodded,"Alright. Thank you anyway!"

And in a moment, they left Yuri and Otabek to themselves. The blonde speared a piece of bread on his fork, glaring at his plate.

"Why didn't you just say yes? They were obviously interested in you."

"Yura, you were invited too."

"But did you see the way they looked at you?" Yuri snapped,"It was like they wanted to eat you alive. Just go, they probably have lots of fun stories about how they're more than happy to kiss strangers and whatnot!"

Otabek paused, raising an eyebrow slightly,"I declined because I didn't want to go."

The blonde grumbled, picking up his drink and taking a sip,"But you would've liked to, right? Just go. You probably haven't had a proper kiss in a while, dragging me along like a ball and chain."

"Yuri, something's bothering you."

The Russian growled,"It's nothing. I was just saying that it's totally _fine_ if you want to go make out with those Russian girls."

Otabek stood up, grabbing Yuri's arm and tugging him through the crowds, much to his dismay.

"Hey! Beka! Let go!"

The Kazakh led him outside, the air much calmer than the rowdy pub in the distance. The older man stood, still gripping the fabric of the other's shirt.

"Yura, tell me what's wrong."

The blonde flushed, scowling,"Nothing. Just leave me alone!"

"Is that what you want me to do? Leave you alone?"

"Of course not!" The blonde yelled, scowling.

"Then what do you want?"

"I don't know!" Yuri spat out, knuckles white as he glared up at the other fiercely. Otabek sighed.

"Then how am I supposed to do anything about it. Why did you want me go hang out with those girls?"

The blonde scoffed,"They were ogling you from across the pub for almost an hour, Beka!"

"And?"

"They wanted to kiss you!"

"So?"

"So then just fucking do it, get over it, and get a quick kiss out of it!"

Otabek stared fiercely down at the other,"Does it bother you that I could choose to kiss someone?"

The blonde flushed, sputtered,"A-Absolutely not."

"Because you should know I don't kiss anyone but my wife."

Yuri scowled,"Who the hell is your-" He flushed,"Oh."

The blonde quickly hid his face, turning to leave,"I'm just going to go-"

Otabek grabbed the Russian's arm, pulling him back. The Kazakh lifted Yuri's face, studying him for a moment before sighing.

"Yura, all you need to do is tell me you don't feel comfortable with me being with other people. Just tell me. I don't read minds."

Yuri grumbled, averting his gaze even while Otabek held his chin in place,"No one can read minds, dumbass."

Otabek's lips curled in a small smile, his hand slipping so that he cupped the blonde's cheek. Yuri blinked rapidly, heart stuttering as he shifted.

"Beka, what-"

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

Yuri froze, eyes wide before he glared, face flushed red,"You don't have to be so forward about it!"

The Kazak raised a brow,"Yes or no."

Yuri huffed, gaze not meeting Otabek's, before whispering,"Yes."

The blonde's eyes fluttered shut as the older man gently pressed lips to his own, the Russian relaxing into Otabek's touch as he gently tugged the taller man closer. Lips moved softly against one another, a gentle breeze causing blonde hair to dance in the wind.

Otabek moved to pull back, but Yuri grumbled in protest, linking his hands behind the other's neck as he deepened the kiss, his heart hammering against his ribs as he pressed himself against the Kazakh's firm chest. Otabek's hands found themselves on the Russian's waist before he finally pulled back, eyes wide and breath short.

He swallowed, gaze meeting Yuri's,"We need to pay for a room for the night."

Yuri froze, mouth slightly open,"Beka, I don't think I'm ready for-"

"Yuri, that's not what I meant."

The blonde stiffened, biting his tongue,"Oh."

They quickly made their way inside the inn adjacent to the pub, paying for a room. They got odd looks from the people observing two men purchasing a single bed room, but Yuri just hastily tugged them along with a blushing face and a set jaw.

Once in the room, an awkward silence fell over the pair.

Yuri cleared his throat, sputtering,"I'm just- I'm going to change in the corner."

Otabek nodded,"I'll change over here." He murmured, grabbing his things from the luggage and sidestepping towards the opposite side of the room.

They hurriedly changed, not saying a word as they slipped into the bed, keeping a safe distance.

Yuri could feel his face heating up at the close proximity to Otabek, but he was thankful it was dark enough to mask his flush.

Otabek shifted, back towards Yuri. He swallowed, nervous. How would the blonde act now? How should _he_ act now? Should he act like nothing happened?

The blonde stared at the rise and fall of the other's muscular back, fingers itching to reach out and trace the tense lines of skin.

The pair eventually drift to sleep, dreams of snow and festivals and _each other_ invading their slumber.

Fifty miles north, JJ enlists men to collect the bounties on the heads of Princess Yuriko Plisetsky and her husband Otabek Altin, Prince of Kazakhstan.


End file.
